Say When
by StardustToRememberYouBy
Summary: It was almost too easy, the two of them there together, sharing more silence than smiles. "Thanks for saving me, Olive." DarylxOC. Character derived from roleplay. Sorry if this seems rushed - pacing will change. Reviews appreciated. Rating for strong language, violence, sexual situations, adult circumstances, and general zombie-ness.
1. The Right Niche

**A/N:** I have been working on this character for a long time, inspired by a character I once roleplayed in TWD verse. I've tweaked her so that she's not a Mary-Sue, but she's wounded. Hell, it's the end of the world. _Everyone_ is wounded, you know? Maybe not physically, but socially, psychologically, spirtitually, and definitely emotionally. She's also not a female Daryl, but she is a fighter. She is also my property. As always, reviews are much-appreciated, but be nice-I'm fairly new at writing TWD fanfics. I've written for roleplay, but not so much in fanfiction. It's a work-in-progress. :)

This fanfiction contains subject matter that may be disturbing to some readers. Reader discretion is advised.

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"You wanted your brother back, you got him," the seething voice of the Governor could be heard across the crowd of cheering onlookers.

A young woman arrived on the scene and pushed her way through the shrieking citizens to get a closer and better look at the onslaught about to occur. The sounds of the grunts and groans of the walkers chained in the arena was enough to chill her to the bone and rile her up at the same time.

Seeing the desperately insatiable glaze in the eyes of the undead, the woman's wide brown eyes drank in the scene before her eyes. The arena was clutteredwith cheers and chants and that's when she could see the Governor - or as she dangerously called him _Philip_ - less than fifteen feet from her and ahead of him was Merle Dixon.

She had never really cared for Merle, save for the stories he told about his brother Daryl. Her sister had been lost amid the chaos of the hell-begotten world they now lived in, so she felt for his loss - at least to a certain degree. Merle was _still_ an asshole, and she never forgot that.

Beside the asshole stood another man, one she knew could be associated with the Governor, but next to him was a mystery man, one with his hands bound behind his back. Not only were his hands wound too tightly together, but the man appeared to be crying - from fright or from stress she couldn't tell, but either way this was a man who wanted to live.

In a flash, she watched with wary eyes as Merle struck the man, knocking off the binds around his hands as he tackled the man to the ground and pinned him there. She pushed her way closer in an attempt to hear what the two were saying to each other. All she could make out were the words "lost" and "brother".

The woman instantaneously knew that this was Daryl Dixon, Merle's kid brother and he was going to be walker-bait if she didn't act quickly.

"Governor, let me see that man," she said loudly over the sound of the roaring crowd, knowing without looking that each of the brothers were probably at the other's throat.

He turned to face her, glowering. "You finally itchin' to have Merle, eh?" he taunted, the shimmer of his eye patch giving her chills.

She shook her head. "Not him. His _brother_."

"That squirrelly son of a bitch ain't your type."

"I say he is, and I say you hand him over or else I'll walk over there and fetch him myself. You _know_ I will."

Contemplating on this, she could see the rage behind his good eye soften a bit before a heavy sigh escaped his lips and a pert nod gave his consent in spite of how angry he would be about this later. _Fingers crossed_.

"Martinez, get Merle off his brother and bring him to me." Martinez looked at him in shock, so the Governor gritted his teeth. "_Now_, I said." The crowd went silent as the fight was ripped apart and Daryl viciously torn away from his brother. "Baby girl's gonna have her _fun_ with him, folks." The Governor sounded almost proud of the young woman, who blushed deeply as some in the audience cheered, and some jeered. Daryl's hands were re-bound and he was handed off to her.

In silence, she led him away from the aftermath of her actions, walking hastily towards the building wherein she found shelter, taking in inside of her apartment and bolting the door behind them as he took a seat in her desk chair.

"What the hell is goin' on?!" he demanded, voice flustered as he watched her close the curtains and lock the door chain.

"Couldn't watch you fight your brother anymore," she confessed, peeking out at the street below.

"So you brought me here...why? What did that bastard mean by sayin' you were gonna have your fun with me?"

She sighed and paused and, in the silence, Daryl got a good look at this woman as she had been a blur the whole way here, but he _was_ coming down off of the worst kind of adrenaline rush. She looked just shy of thirty years old, but she didn't look like she belonged here. Her wavy-curly light brown hair fell just past her broad shoulders. She was averagely-weighted, save for her proportional curves and what appeared to be ample cleavage - _the fuck are you thinkin' about that for, man? Focus, bro. Her boobs ain't important._

"I'll tell you if you won't judge what I have to say," she said over her shoulder.

"Do I look like I'm in any position to judge ya?" he asked, shifting a bit in the confines of the chair.

"This whole settlement things I'm a whore."

"Are ya?"

She scoffed. "_Hell_ no."

"Then why do they think that?"

"Because I _let_ 'em." She turned to face him, leaning her palms back on the windowsill. "The Governor convinced everyone that I was one because I refused to sleep with him. Got so pissed off he gave me a bad reputation." She paused. "I don't do anything like what he tells everyone I do - I swear. New guys come into town and are handed off to me. All I do is exchange some decent food and shelter for a night for information on the world outside these walls."

"Why do you need to know?"

"I fucking _hate_ it here. I want to get the hell outta dodge, but I haven't found the right niche."

"What're you gonna do with me here?"

She crossed the room, noting that he winced just before she untied his hands, so she proceeded cautiously. "Protect you here as long as I can."

"Then what?" Daryl rubbed his wrists, sore and raw from being bound.

"I'll get ya out of here."

Daryl nodded. Almost two years ago, he would have bitched at this girl till she slapped him across the face, and then he'd have bitched some more. But now, he was blindly trusting a woman he had jsut met and was placing his freedom - and his life - in her hands for safe-keeping.

He remained silent as she heated chicken soup for him and placed it into a bowl, handing it to him with a bottle of water.

"Bottled water," he mused. "That's somethin' I ain't seen for a while."

"I bet," she stated simply, once again peering out of the curtains. That tick fascinated Daryl. He pondered why she could be so paranoid, but said nothing.

Daryl finished his soup in silence, standing to place his dishes in the sink.

"You don't have to wash them," she interjected as she heard the bowl clink.

"It's the least I can do," he said as his hands worked to scrub them clean. The instant the hot water hit his flesh, it was as if life flowed through him anew. This was quite the luxury and he wondered... "Do you take hot showers?" She turned and looked at him as though she was both shocked and slightly offended. Realizing his mistake, Daryl reworded the sentence. "Is there hot water for the shower?"

She came out of her puzzlement and blinked a few times. "Door's right there." She gestured to a door by the open kitchen. "Use however much you need."

Nodding, Daryl went into her bathroom and looked around. It was fairly empty, save for a few items needed in there regularly. To him, it looked like she had never really settled into this place, but he also realized that it was, in all honesty, none of his business, so he decided on not asking her about it.

Grabbing her soap, a fresh washcloth and a towel, he started the shower and began to undress. Peeling his clothes from his skin, he realized that it was about time to find some new clothes, if at all possible. His clothes were sweaty and, undoubtedly, smelled of hard work, too much use, and sweat. Daryl hoped she hadn't been able to smell him, but it was inevitable, given the state of his wardrobe. He stepped into the tub, feeling the hot water against his skin as though the sensation it caused was brand new. They had decent showers at the prison but no hot water, so this felt like heaven. No place on his body went unwashed, so section was overlooked as he scrubbed away the impurities of the hell outside that had clung to his skin.

Inside of ten minutes, he had completed his shower, starting to redress when she knocked on the door.

"Hey," came her voice from the other side of the door, "if you want, I can wash your clothes for you."

"What am I supposed to wear till then - this towel?" was his reply.

There was silence on the other side for a moment. "I have a fresh set of men's clothes if you want them until yours are washed and dried."

Daryl thought for a moment, wondering why she would have a set of men's clothes in her apartment, but this question was countered with a question regarding why he was asking so many questions about this woman - why should he care?

"Hand 'em in through the door."

She did just that, handing him a clean black t-shirt, brown cargo pants about his size, boxers, and a pair of Army-issed socks. Closing the door once more, she took his clothes as he passed them to her.

Heading to the sink, she filled it up with hot, soapy water and examined his clothes. Every stitch was another tale he had yet to tell, and he fascinated her in a way his brother never could. She looked at the wings on the back of his vest, noticing that they had been hand-sewn to the leather, so she wondered if he had done this himself. The worn, cut-off-sleeved flannel shirt he had worn beneath the best had a small, poorly mended hole near the ribs on the left side - _his_ left, that is - and she wondered how he had been injured and what had been done to heal it.

So many more questions with him lay in the reins, ready to spill from her lips as though she had been born to pose such intruding inquiries. Instead, she scrubbed every inch of his clothes and kept her ever-curious mouth closed.

A few moments later, Daryl emerged from the bathroom, watching while she hung his clothes on a line strung across that half of the apartment.

"Feel better?" she asked.

Daryl nodded. "Yeah, thanks," he answered, taking a seat in the desk chair once again. When she finished hanging his clothes to dry, she crossed the room to peer out of the curtains. "Why do ya keep doin' that? Lookin' for someone?"

She sighed and nodded her head, folding her arms across her chest before turning to face him. "Yes." She had spoken just then as though he should have already known the answer to that. "I know that once people start dispersing back to their houses, Philip will be up here and, I know he will, demand to know what came over me."

"What'll you tell him?"

"What _else_ can an alleged whore say? 'Lust'."

Daryl found himself feeling sorry for her on a whim. He did not know anything of substance about this woman but he pitied her, a fact he couldn't merely overlook. Human nature doesn't work like that.

"So what's your name?" He noted to himself that she winced upon hearing him speak - whether it was the sound of his voice or the words he used, he wasn't sure. "I can't thank you properly without your name."

"I told you - no need to thank me." Daryl raised his eyebrows, an indication that he would have her name before they'd finish the conversation. She closed her eyes for a moment before reopening them and looking him straight in the eyes. "My name is Olive. Olive Norton."

"I'm Daryl." She smirked and stifled back a chuckle and he, too, smiled. It was almost too easy, the two of them there together, sharing more silence than smiles. "Thanks for saving me, Olive."

She was about to say "no problem" or something of the sort, but that's when a loud, thumping knock sounded at her door. "Shit! That's him." Her voice was a hoarse whisper, so he took that as a sign he should be silent. "Don't say _anything_, ya hear?" He nodded, turning away as she removed her shirt and pants, tossing them out of view of the doorway, leaving her in just her intimates. Heading over to the door, she took a deep breath and tousled her hair a bit and let one of her bra straps slip from her shoulder. Unlocking the door, she opened it slightly, the chain still fully operational.

"Hey," she said, turning on a bit of huskiness to her voice as she made contact with the brute's one good eye. "Whatcha need? I'm kinda in the middle of somethin'."

The Governor leaned into the door's crack to get as close as possible. "that was some smart-ass stunt you pulled back there," his gruff, pissy voice said to her. "Wanna tell me _why_?"

"I wanted him at my place all of a sudden, you know?" She shrugged, smirking softly. "It was lust at first sight."

He scoffed. "That habit of yours is gonna getcha in a whole heap o' trouble one day."

"Until then, I'll just kick back and enjoy the ride." Olive put a slight emphasis on the last word and the Governor grinned devilishly.

"How's he holdin' up for ya so far?"

"He passed out when I tossed him onto the bed. Once he wakes up, I've got a couple of ideas for him."

"Just a couple?" Clicking his tongue, he reached through the gap in the door and touched a finger just below her bellybutton and then then played with the ends of one of her wave-curls. "When are ya gonna invite _me_ in there, Ollie-baby?"

Olive had been holding her breath, but spoke with ease in spite of her discomfort. "I told you I would when I felt experienced enough before I let you have a taste of my medicine."

The Governor let loose a low growl from down inside of his chest somewhere and Olive struggled not to cry. Given that he was a tall, gangly man who had mentally overpowered her once before, he had been physically dominating her since she had arrived in Woodbury. She was suddenly thankful that she still had the door chained.

"Sounds like a plan, sugar," he said, his eyes leering at her as if marking her as his territory, as if branding her soul with his name. Turning on his heel, the town's leader walked away, leaving Olive to shudder as she closed the door and bolted it again.

"Damn," Daryl said after a moment's silence. "That guy has some serious problems."

"You don't even know the half of it." Olive's voice was barely above a mutter as she grabbed a blanket off of the bed and wrapped it around herself, sitting down on the edge of the comforter.

"What the hell does he have over you? You should tell him to go to hell." She shot him a look that miraculously shut him up. It was an expression that was intended to tell him 'all in good time', that the answer he requested had to be earned first.

"Enough about me. Let's focus on getting you out of here."

Daryl nodded simply, yawning slightly. "Where do ya want me to sleep?"

Olive gestured to the bed. "You're welcome to it."

"What about you?"

"Don't worry about me - insomnia." The look she bore after she offered her explanation was enough to make Daryl's heart ache for her. He could practically read the nightmares as they played across her features. Standing from the bed, it was as if she had found her second wind, placing the blanket neatly onto the bed. "Help yourself to whatever you need to sleep." She headed to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. "I'll keep watch out of the window." She pulled the desk chair to the window, opening the curtain the second she saw the last person enter the apartments across the road.

Daryl crawled warily into the bed, finding it amazingly comfortably, even though he felt badly for commandeering her bed - insomnia or not, he felt remorse for this woman. He understood that there was so much more to her story than to the miniscule bits of it that he had learned so far, but the time would need to age them, easing them into that comfortability little by little.

There was also a lot of information about _his_ life that _she_ didn't know yet, and those, too, were stories that needed to be earned. Olive kept watch that night wondering why this particular Dixon brother was trusting her so blindly, making all of this so much smoother than she had anticipated, a fact she didn't expect from Daryl given the status of his brother. Daryl fell asleep wondering why Olive, a girl who had her own apartment with a bolted door and an alleged lifestyle, insisted on keeping watch from inside her apartment, regardless of how "safe" this place claimed to be.


	2. Something Cohesive

**A/N:** Thanks for all of the views, the alert-adds, and the favorited for this story so far, you guys! It really means a lot to me. I hadn't exactly expected a fond response, given how protective we all are about our talented Mister Dixon. Reviews are much-appreciated, as always, and again, I do not own _The Walking Dead_ or Daryl. I _do_ own Olive. She is solely my territory. Enjoy!

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The bright morning sun shone through the curtains as Daryl began to stir. It felt strange and foreign to him to be waking up in a bed, barefooted and well-rested. This was quite the pick-me-up first thing in the morning - he had never been nor would he ever be a morning person - especially since the overwhelming aroma of something spectacular filled his nostrils and warmed him to the core.

He rolled onto his back slowly, groaning and yawning as he rubbed his eyes to readjust his vision and have a look around.

Olive was in the kitchen, cooking something that smelled delicious, something he knew he hadn't smelled in a long time. Hearing the sound he made, she turned her head to look at him.

"Good morning," she greeted as she set a couple of plates onto her desk, pulling out a folding chair. "I made breakfast."

"So I can smell," he said, his voice still froggy as he stood from the bed and began to straighten the blankets and the sheets.

"Let _me_ do that." Her voice sounded a tad demanding as if to say she didn't _want_ him to straighten _anything_. Daryl gave her a blank stare before fluffing the pillows and doing exactly what she had told him _not_ to do. A sigh escaped her lips in frustration, but continued to put their breakfast onto the desk. "I don't have a table...sorry."

Daryl shrugged his shoulders lightly as he crossed the room to the desk, looking over the food she'd made. She had made toast by spreading butter across its surface and frying it in a pan and putting sunnyside-up eggs and tomato on the tops of the bread - the butter's simmer in the pan must have been what he had smelled.

"The smell woke me up," he commented, taking a seat on the folding chair.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, pouring glasses of milk for each of them. "If you want to go back to bed - "

" - no, I'm fine. What I meant is it smelled so good."

"Good. I'm glad you have an appetite." She started to eat while watching him examine the glass of milk.

"Milk? Now _there's_ a luxury."

Olive nodded. "There's a family a couple of blocks from here that keeps a couple of milking cows. They hand pasteurize it, so it's clean. Plus, I like the taste."

"So do I," Daryl added after the cool, refreshing liquid drizzled down his throat. The toast she'd made tasted so good to him, a right sight differently than the oatmeal and bountiful amounts of noodles at the prison. Which reminded him... "So what's your plan for bustin' me outta here?"

"I have watch on the main wall tonight. I'll take you with me and we'll hop the wall and jet out from there."

Daryl's eyes narrowed as he swallowed a bite. "Isn't that a bit too easy? Won't there be any resistance?"

"Probably, and most of it will be your brother's protest."

"I just need to get back to my group." _Even though he __is__ my brother_, he thought to himself.

"And your group needs you to get back to them safely."

"I'll need my crossbow back."

Olive nodded. "I'll need my weapons, too. Philip keeps them all in his apartment."

"Jesus." Daryl wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "How are we gonna get in there?"

She thought for a moment. "I can distract him somehow."

Daryl looked at her with a wide-eyed expression before he shook his head. "You're not gonna..._are_ ya?"

"Hell no. I don't wanna do that - I'd rather have my tongue cut out than do that, but I _will_ keep him busy long enough for you to get in and out undetected."

Once again, he trusted her blindly even though he didn't have another option. "What's your weapon so I know what to look for?"

"He actually has a few of mine. I have a pitchfork that I've altered - "

" - wait. Altered _how_?"

"I reinforced the wooden handle with a metal PVC pipe. He also has my compound bow and my hand scythe." She watched on, embarrassed as Daryl's eyes twitched and his expression read of shock. "The scythe was my sister's. Comes in handy in a pinch."

"I believe ya. The pitchfork...that's somethin' I ain't seen yet. Can ya fire a gun?"

Olive nodded. "I kept my dad's Beretta."

Daryl was impressed, but said nothing. She gathered their dishes and headed to the sink, leaving him at a loss for what he _was_ going to say. "What do you have over the Governor's head?"

"What?" It was like she was pretending not to have heard him even though that wasn't the case at all.

"He was pissed as hell last night, so there's no way he would have let us walk unless you knew somethin' about him that he doesn't want ya repeatin'."

Olive completed her dish-washing before she answered him. "I know his real name." Daryl was attentive now. "He was buddies with my uncle some years ago, and I can tell you, with certainty, that he knows I know, and that I'm _right_."

"Hasn't he hurt ya for knowin'?"

All she could do in response was nod, leaving him with even more questions, questions that, for the time being, would remain unanswered. If she were anyone else, he would have already pressured the answers out of her, but it was different with Olive. Hell, _everything_ was different with Olive and he couldn't figure out why. There were so many things he wanted to ask her, so many words unsaid, but he just didn't know how to get through to her yet.

Olive wanted to explain her ties with the Governor, to finally have someone in whom she could confide, but said nothing. She could not underestimate this particular man, nor would she want to. She had an unrecognized, underlying feeling building within her lower abdomen, but she was unable to figure out exactly what said feeling was.

Olive walked over to the line, checking on his drying clothes and looking at their holes. "I could mend these if you want."

"I can sew," he admitted softly. "I did the wings on my vest."

"I wondered about that." She smiled fondly, poking a finger through the hole in the flannel shirt he had been wearing the previous night. "My turn for the questions." Daryl thought about this for a moment, nodding - that was fair, as he had done nothing but ask _her_ all the questions since he arrived there. "What's this hole from? Were you shot?"

"Not there." Her eyes met his in an almost worried expression, but he shook his head. "It nicked my forehead - nothin' bad."

"Who shot ya? Someone in your group?"

"It was an accident. She was just tryin' to defend our group."

"A woman shot you?"

Daryl nodded. "Yeah, and I ain't proud to admit she bested me for a while, but I was already livin' hell by the time she'd shot me, and I _did_ look like a walker."

Olive pondered such a notion, somehow able to imagine the blood around his mouth, the swagger of nervous exhaustion, and the general appearance of one undead. A shiver shot down her spine at the idea, but shook it off. "I'm guessin' there's a story behind that. You don't have to tell me." She examined the loops in his cargo pants, noticing that one was broken. "I see your knife. Do you hunt?"

He nodded. "Gotta fend for myself somehow, right?"

"O' course. My favorite game was rabbit."

"I prefer squirrel."

"Good choice. Merle told me y'all left him on a roof in Atlanta, and that's how he lost his hand."

"Yeah, and I hadn't seen 'im again 'til last night."

"I'm guessing it wasn't like you'd imagined it'd be."

"Actually, it _was_. Reminded me o' when we were kids."

"He beat your ass like that when you were kids?"

Daryl shrugged. "We're brothers."

"Yours just happens to be an animal."

He couldn't recall a time that truer words about his brother had been shown. It was clear to Daryl that time hadn't mended his brother, and Olive had spoken the truth - Merle was, and always had been, a leech sucking the life out of him. The best thing to do with a leech was to rip it off and crush it, so he would have to do the same with his brother.

"Just so you're aware," she spoke out amid the awkward silence that she had caused with her previous statement, "when we go outside, we have to act like we've slept together." Daryl looked confused and wrung his hands together, so Olive could tell this notion bothered him. "If you want to be convincing, we have to show everybody that we can't keep our hands off of each other."

"What are the consequences if we don't?"

"Philip will figure it out, your brother will know, and then I can't protect you anymore because they'll take you away from me and handle you themselves."

"What is their version of handlin' me?"

"They'd kill you."

Daryl's thoughts ran wild. He had never allowed a woman to get anywhere close enough to him either in proximity or in relationship to touch him, and he sure as hell had never put his hands on a woman in any capacity, romantic or otherwise. The idea of having to act romantic with Olive terrified him to no end, but then again, he wasn't willing to die if he didn't accept her terms. "I don't...I've never..."

Olive nodded. "Neither have I - believe me, I'm less than excited about it, but it's the only way if you wanna get out of here so I can get you back to your group." Come to think of it, she had never been in contact with a man like what she was suggesting with Daryl once they stepped outside of the building.

"Like...what kinda stuff are we talkin' here?" His voice was a tad shaky.

"Nothing _too_ heavy...probably hand-holding, walking close together, lots of smiles, laughter...playful, uh..." She couldn't speak anymore - her nervous stomach was intervening inconveniently.

"That's enough for now," he admitted. "I feel sick."

Olive nodded. "You're tellin' me."

The hours passed by all too quickly, and late afternoon was approaching, so Olive dressed herself comfortably and fully packed, preparing for her "watch" wherein she and Daryl would head out and off for the prison. She exited the bathroom and noticed that he was pacing the room, making her think of a caged tiger.

"I've got my pack full of food and a couple of canteens," she said as she put the straps over her shoulders. "We should be good once we get our weapons back and get the hell outta here."

Daryl threw his arms down. "Fuck it," he muttered, turning to face her. "I don't know if I can pull off the whole sexy, lovey-dovey shit out there. I ain't never done anythin' like that before - I don't wanna die, but this shit is just fuckin' with my brain right now and I just - " He stopped there, rubbing the heels of his palms against his temples in frustration at what was going to have to happen.

Olive frowned. "I just...I don't see another option for us, Daryl..." She was, truthfully, sorry for him - and for herself - that he had to go through with this, even for a brief time. "If there was another way, I'd sure as hell take it. It won't take a long time, because I can let you slip away from what's happening so I can then distract Philip and then you can head off and get our weapons."

Thinking this over, Daryl realized that she was correct, and also that she, too, was feeling anxious about the ramifications expected of them to get where they needed to be. In the time that day in which they had spent together in silence for the most part, Olive had mended his clothes entirely, a fact he noticed as he changed into his regular clothes and folded her extra pair, laying them down onto the desk. "Thanks for fixin' my clothes, by the way. I appreciate it."

"Not a problem." She was tugging on her earlobe as he spoke and pacing softly - it was clear that she was beyond nervous. "We should head out."

"Yeah..."

Together they left the apartment and stopped together at the front doors, seeing the people roaming the streets as the sun began its descent from the highest point in the sky.

"You ready?" she asked, turning her head to look at him.

"As ready as I'll ever be," he answered with a light shrug of his shoulders.

"Follow my lead and don't forget to smile a _lot_ and laugh at me even when I'm not being funny...just keep it relaxed and if you get nervous, put your arms around me or somethin'."

Biting his bottom lip, Daryl nodded and reached over, grazing her fingertips with his and wincing slightly. He couldn't bring himself to go the entire hundred percent of the way, so he was glad when she finished the gap for him and took hold of his fingers, and that's when it happened.

It was like an instantaneous spark, a hitch in their flesh that seemed like the patterns on each of their cells had been tailored to magnetize whenever in contact with the other's. It was breathtaking and emotional. Daryl's breath caught in his throat and Olive could feel her entire body cool down and her heart surge from the emotion of the first contact with him.

Neither spoke a word as this connection was finalized. Their hands were clasped together and neither seemed to care because it seemed like this had always been the plan, the idea since their conception. In the moment his rough, broad hands grasped her slender, softer digits, their cares and all their previous anxiety and nerves melted away and reshaped themselves, morphing into something beautiful, something _cohesive_.

Stepping outside, each instantly turned on the charms. Daryl stepped closer to her, a smile crossing his face as he forced her to look at him. Olive's eyes met his and she returned the smile, her other hand moving to hold his arm and pull her closer to him as the two of them sauntered down the street, hand-in-hand and giggling adorably.

Olive had never been this physically intimate with a man, even if it was faked. The problem, as she realized in that moment, was that this didn't _feel_ faked. It felt like this was the way things had always been with Daryl, even though she'd only just met him the previous day. But back to reality...

Daryl had always been warily anxious of women, especially when it came to touching them, so he had always steered clear of it until now. But even at this moment with Olive, their situation seemed like a daily occurrence, something that happened with them all the time. Instead, they had known each other less than twenty-four hours, but something about faking romance with her made him wish he could attempt it for real.

Out of the corner of her vision, Olive could see Philip by the main wall straight ahead and she knew he was looking right at the pair of them, so she played things up a bit more. Stepping in front of him, she walked backwards and tugged him closer, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her forehead to his.

"You're doing _wonderfully_," she whispered, pretending to kiss his nose.

"Not so bad yourself," Daryl complimented, wanting to say so much more about how much he was enjoying this. Instead, he circled his arms around her waist and spun her for a moment, laughing heartily and making her laugh in return. Stopping in the middle of the street, he dipped her back in his arms and nuzzled his nose against her cheek, making an attempt to appear as though they were necking right there in plain sight of the Governor.

Standing her back upright, they continued on towards the wall and as Philip approached them, Daryl backed her against the wall of the building just beside them and looked into her eyes. Olive's fingers played with the back of his hair as her eyes danced in the reflections of his own. He contemplated what to do next until she nodded slightly as if to give him permission to do what he needed to do to seal their play.

Daryl leaned in a bit, feeling his lips tremble as they brushed against hers, tingling upon feeling how soft her lips felt against his. Olive wasn't sure how to respond entirely, so her hands moved around his back until one settled on the back of his head through his hair and the other clutched at his back. He didn't deepen the kiss any, but made it look like a passionate, deep kiss nonetheless.

It was like the most wonderful kind of magic either of them had ever tasted - literally. The ways in which their lips met felt like at the start of their lives, each mouth had been specifically carved to fit perfectly with the other's. When he pulled back and looked into her eyes, he smiled a genuine smile and she returned it. Of course, this resulted in both hearing a slow applause from nearby.

"That was great," the Governor said to them, coming closer as he clapped slowly. "Seems like the two of you have grown quite close since last night."

Olive nodded and smiled brightly. "Oh, yes," she said. "We haven't been able to keep our hands off of each other since then."

"So I can see." There was a gleam in his eye, one that Olive was uncomfortable with.

"I'm gonna take a walk till the watch starts, if that's alright with you, babe," Daryl propositioned, one of his hands caressing her hair.

Olive's eyes glowed, but seemed saddened as though she didn't want him to leave, didn't want faking this to end. "Of course," she answered softly. "Anythin' you want."

Daryl nodded, kissing her gently once again before squeezing her hands and taking off, his fingers touching the place on his lips where hers had been just moments before. Sure, it wasn't technically a _real_ kiss - if it had been, things would definitely have gotten out of control.

Olive could feel her heart breaking slightly as she watched Daryl walk away from her, knowing that their time for physical contact had come to an end. She savored all that remained of those feelings and walked over to the Governor, smirking. "Now we can get down to business."

"Whaddya mean by 'business'?"

"I mean..." Her voice trailed off as she swallowed the lump in her throat and stepped forward. "...now that he's gone for a while, we can talk about that prospect."

The Governor raised his eyebrows. "The one where you invite me over?"

Olive nodded, biting into her bottom lip and tucking her hair behind her ears. "That's the one."

"Bein' with that asshole has shown you who has a better skill with fuckin', hasn't it?" He was taunting her, especially in his derogatory replacement word for sex.

"It sure has, Philip." She reached out and played with the buttons on his shirt. "Won't your current flame disapprove of you messin' around on her though?"

"Who...Andrea? I don't give a shit what she thinks - she's outlived her time here anyway. Now, you, on the other hand..." He paused for a moment, stepping closer to her and touching her hair again like he had the night before, which made her cringe inwardly. "...you've been here long before her and you'll be here long after."

_Try again, asswipe_, Olive thought to herself. "Oh, you know it. Stability is always a good thing, Philip."

The Governor nodded, leaning in and taking a deep sniff of her hair before running his nails along the line of her arms. Olive wanted to cry out and attack him for this, attack him for the time before when he'd...but she didn't. She stood her ground and took it, knowing that she had to give Daryl time to get in and get out - luckily, timing-wise, she knew he must already be at the apartment, so time was drawing nearer.

"I've gotta go meet Milton," he said into her ear hoarsely.

"Aw, do you hafta?" she pouted, sticking out her bottom lip teasingly. This was not something she should have done, and regretted it soon after because it was at that moment when he grabbed her roughly and chewed on her pouting lip. It was almost like he thought this was sexier than kissing someone and, no less, that he was _good_ at it. It hurt, actually, and he bit her lip hard - so hard, in fact, that it drew blood.

The Governor grinned wickedly, licking some of the blood off of her lip as he pulled back. "I've gotta. He's workin' on some new kind of bite-proof material for the walkers and he wants to try it out. You wanna join me?"

"I've got watch."

"So dedicated. I say, do those skills transfer to the bedroom?"

Olive struggled not to visibly twitch. "They just might..."

"Excellent. I'll meet ya at your place after your watch is over in the mornin'." There was no question about it - Philip would be there. He was _always_ there.

She grinned. "I look forward to it." She embraced him, making sure to linger in it longer than she had to before heading to the wall, looking out over the edge and waiting for Daryl. She hoped he hadn't gotten caught or sidetracked...or worse.

"Psst!"

Olive glanced around, noticing Daryl in between the closest building and the wall itself. How long had she zoned?

"You're back!" she said, a little too excitedly as she approached him. "Did you get 'em?"

Daryl nodded. "They're right here. Did you wanna wait for total darkness or somethin'?"

"We have to wait until the streets are clear of people, which should be soon since the sun's settin' fast."

Daryl noticed that her face was a bit flushed, but at the base of her neck were red splotches on her skin. "The hell happened?" He sounded worried and, frankly, a tad jealous.

"I'm blushing."

"On your chest?"

Olive shrugged. "I don't blush on my face, so it's gotta go somewhere."

"Touche." Looking her over, he hoped that the Governor hadn't been too hard on her, and he almost meant that notion literally. "What happened?"

"I told him that he should meet me at my place after my watch ends in the morning."

"And he believes you'll be there?"

"Yeah. I had him convinced that he and I were the _real_ lovers in this situation and he bought it. Anything so he doesn't kill me for knowin' what I know, right?"

"...right." His answer had hesitated, a fact that struck Olive to the core. She wanted more than anything to reach out and hold him for real and not fakely, but she couldn't. Not here, not now. As the sun set in the evening sky, the citizens of Woodbury retreated to their homes for safekeeping, and Olive gave the go-ahead nod.

"Let's go." She kept her voice low as the wall was cleared. No Philip, no Merle, and no Martinez in sight, they rushed up onto the platform against the wall - weapons in hand - as they jumped over the edge and Olive tossed him a flashlight. "Don't turn that on till we're free and clear of here, so keep an eye out."

Daryl nodded, keeping his crossbow at the ready just in case and handing her the compound bow she had requested that he retrieve for her. She slung it across her shoulders and placed the hand scythe into the belt loops of her pants before gripping the pitchfork within her fists.

Both remained vigilant as Woodbury disappeared into the background. With Olive's help, he had made it - Daryl was coming home.


	3. But Said Nothing

**A/N: **I LOVE the positive responses from this story - I truly do! As always, reviews are much-appreciated. Olive is my own creation, but the rest of the characters are not.

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The instant the walls of Woodbury were beyond their line of sight, Olive could feel the heavy weight lift from her shoulders. The looming nature of the corruption was no longer hers and given how wonderful she felt how much lighter the forbearance, she resolved never going back to that circle of hell ever again, still knowing that the other circles of hell were waiting just around the corner.

She didn't want to stop going, knowing full-well that she didn't require sleep and could go on through the night, but with Daryl in tow, she had to be considerate of his energy levels.

"Let me know when you feel like you wanna stop," she commented over her shoulder, stopping in her tracks upon spotting a walker up ahead of herself.

"Show me whatcha got," Daryl challenged her, aiming his crossbow for safe measure.

Olive pulled her pitchfork from its holster at her side and approached the walker from behind, her former survival instincts once more kicking in as she gripped her weapon's handle and thrust it forward, watching as the spokes entered the walker's softened skull at the back. The spokes didn't stop there and passed all the way through the skull, exiting through the forehead. Pulling back sharply, Olive allowed the body to fall with a thud to the forest floor.

Daryl stood behind her and lowered his crossbow, thankful that she could handle herself. "Nicely done," he complimented as he scanned the area for additional walkers. "Looks like we're all clear. Do you wanna set up camp for the night and go on first thing in the mornin'?"

"If you wanna get some sleep, we can stop for a bit."

"You ain't tired?"

"Insomnia, remember?"

"Right, I forgot. Sorry."

"Don't apologize - it's fine."

"I ain't tired - I'll sleep if I wanna when I get back to my group."

Olive nodded. "I can understand that."

Daryl wanted to ask her how she felt about sticking around once they got to the prison, but he didn't want to evade her personal space if she turned out to actually _want_ to be on her own.

She wanted to approach the subject of the prison, pondering what Daryl's group would think of her given that their haughty, fearless archer was on her side - at least, she _assumed_ he was. The two of them pressed on, only coming across a couple more walkers during their time in the woods, a fact that highly surprised Olive since all she had heard from Merle and Philip alike was that just outside the Woodbury border was a hot zone for the undead, but so far they had been terribly lucky based on thestats she had been given.

"I'm glad I'm out of there," she blurted before her mouth had time to stop her ramblings short.

"Yeah?" Daryl said, thoroughly pleased that she was better already. "You're actin' more relaxed out here." He hadn't meant to sound so informal about her disposition, but he hoped she might understand. "I _will_ tell ya that ya may get tense again once you get to the prison with me."

"How come? Your group might not take well to me or...?"

"Yeah, but all that depends on _them_, ya know? Sometimes they're okay with newcomers, sometimes they ain't. It depends on morale. I'm sorry in advance if any of 'em hurt your feelin's."

"Don't be - I understand group mentality, and sometimes it's not good."

"I don't want 'em to make you out to be the culprit if they all happen to be in pissy moods, 'cause y'ain't."

"That means a lot, Daryl." She glanced over at him with a smile. "Thanks."

"Yer welcome," he said, giving her a light smile in return as they walked side-by-side.

The pair of them together was so easy and each knew this felt _right_ for once, in spite of past mistakes and future loneliness, the pair fit together quite well and each was comforted by the presence of the other.

Daryl found himself wanting to walk through these woods with her fingers clasped through his, sharing fond and _real_ laughs not unline those they had been forced to fake for safekeeping. He wanted to confront her about the kiss and discuss the times in the future when they could shaere more kisses, _deeper_ kisses. He pondered all of this, but said nothing.

Olive kept wishing she could cease the tension and close all gaps between her body and his, but figured that things may just be happening too quickly and said nothing, no matter how ardentlyher heart longed to say what needed to be said.

They pushed on through the night to make it to the area of the woods that surrounded the prison. Upon sighting the property, Olive shook her head. "Damn," she sighed, "you all found a good spot."

Daryl nodded. "It'll hold for now," he commented. "Sun's risin'. Somebody'll be out to check the fences soon. 'Til then, we should be as close to that entryway as possible." He led her over to the area where Olive could see a large hole in the fence. His people had pulled the sides as close together as possible and had it padlocked to keep the wandering walkers at bay.

"Get a bit of shut-eye if you want to," Olive suggested as she took a seat on the grass and got comfortable upon seeing no walkers in sight.

Daryl shook his head. "Not 'til we're tucked inside the fence." He double-checked the padlock - thankfully, it was locked tightly.

"Who in your group should I steer clear of?"

Her question had struck him as odd, but he would have done the same in her position. "I wouldn't say ya need to 'steer clear' of any of 'em, but be careful what you say and who you say it to...at least until they know ya better."

Olive nodded with every intention of following his advice. The only person in his group that he knew was him, so she'd have to be mindful of her words and the person to whom her words were addressed once again, her life would be in danger at the slightest hiccup. Any mistake, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem at the time could have grave repercussions.

"Look," he said after a few painstakingly quiet moments, "here they come." He pointed a finger towards the main guard tower and Olive could see a small band of people headed their way.

"Who all is coming?" she asked, standing from her once-seated position.

Daryl examined the group to look at those on their way. "I see Rick...Glenn...I think that's Maggie...and Carl."

"Aren't there others?"

"A few. They stay indoors for the most part though."

"Carl is Rick's son and Maggie is dating Glenn, right?" She hoped that her assumptions were correct.

Daryl nodded. "That's right." It was a good sign that she was picking up on the cues and the subtleties his group was notorious for - this would definitely work in her favor in the long run.

As the group neared, Olive could see that each person was harboring different levels of grief, so she knew to steer clear of talking to any among them about their individual sadness - this didn't mean that she shouldn't get to know them. On the contrary, in fact. All that this told her was that some of them would be more difficult to get to know than the rest.

Rick's eyes remained fixated on Olive. He drew his weapon and aimed it directly at her, motioning for Glenn to unlock the padlock and allow them to enter. With Rick's weapon drawn, Daryl made certain that Olive was closeby his side as they entered through the fence together.

"Who the hell is _this_?" Rick demanded. In response, Olive holstered her pitchfork and hooked her scythe through the belt loops of her cargo pants. "What do you mean by bringing new people to our spot?"

Daryl instantaneously stepped in between the pointed weapon and Olive as if to be a protective shield. "This is Olive," he said and everyone listened. "She saved my life back in that town and got me the hell outta there and back here."

"She's from Woodbury?" Rick loosened his grip on the gun slightly, stepping back a bit.

Olive nodded slowly. "Unfortunately," she answered.

"I wouldn't trust her," Glenn piped in.

Daryl turned his sights to the Korean, rather surprised to hear him speak up at all. "She ain't any different from us and she needs a safe place to stay. She's good with weapons and I know she'll pull her weight around here." He paused, turning back to Rick. "We lost T. We _need_ another decent body around here."

Rick mulled over the things Daryl had just said. It was clear that he cared for this woman, far more than he had ever cared about anyone else in the group, at least openly. "How do you feel about this Governor guy?" he asked of Olive.

She had hundreds - if not _thousands_ - of things she could have used to vent her hatred, her rage against the man called by a false political title, but she bit her tongue and stated plainly for all of them to hear, "What I wouldn't give for a shot at this head - _literally_."

Rick nodded and placed his hands on the sides of his hips. "Alright, Miss Norton, we'll try you on for size for a little while but I'm only doin' this because you brought Daryl back to his family. We don't know anything about you and, in this group, trust has to be _earned_."

Olive's stature relaxed before she nodded once pertly. "I don't blame you for that," she admitted.

Rick gestured towards the prison. "Let's get back. Beth is makin' breakfast." He led Carl away from the fence and back towards where they had initially come from.

Maggie approached Olive, giving a faint smile. "I'm Maggie, and this is Glenn," she greeted.

"Olive," Olive said, acknowledging Glenn, who turned away.

Maggie patted her boyfriend's shoulder gently. "Don't pay him no mind - he's cautious of everybody outta that town after what we went through." Glenn took Maggie by the hand and pulled her away in a pouty huff.

Daryl slung his crossbow over his shoulder and nudged Olive with his elbow. "Let's go," he said, suddenly finding himself wanting to take a firm hold of her hand and run along the tall grass with her, but said nothing. "Sorry they weren't the most hospitable creatures to ya."

Olive shook her head. "I'm used to it - hopefully they'll see me more as an asset than a curse soon."

Daryl frowned. "Ain't nobody sees you like a curse, Olive."

"Lease of all by _you_." She felt her ankle roll a bit upon stepping into a dip in the earth and she grabbed hold of Daryl's arm, tanned and sweaty from the Georgia heat. Olive blushed and stood erect, immediately removing her hands from his arm.

He wished she wouldn't let go of his skin as that had been the first time since their pretend love-fest that their bodies had come in contact with the other's, but as always, he said nothing. Eventually, he would reach a point wherein he would be instatiable for her and long to have her bones pressed against him to tightly they would become as one flesh. But, just for now, the pair remained silent as they entered through the second set of gates and found themselves safely inside the prison once more.

Olive could smell oatmeal as she looked around the room she stood in at present. The inside of the prison looked worn-in as if it hadn't been fully-functioning in a good year or two, but the floor lay strewn with bodies of both walkers and inmates alike.

"Was it like this when you found this place?" she asked, keeping her hand near the handle of her scythe in case the undead should try and crop up out of nowhere.

Daryl shrugged slightly. "It wasn't _this_ bad when we got here," he answered. "We've cleared out most of the prison ourselves."

Olive was impressed and shocked that such a small group could accomplish this. "All on your own?" Daryl nodded. "Must be a good team when you all work together."

"Not a team - a _family_. We stopped bein' a team a long time ago."

Olive could fully understand that as her motley group had been the same prior to its self-depletion. She had been alone for far too long, so to be amid a self-called "family" was more than she couldn't have ever hoped for.

Their makeshift kitchen area was broad enough to hold a few tables, probably ones pulled from the cafeteria after it had been cleared out. _Smart idea,_ she thought to herself as she spotted an older man missing half of his leg, a teenaged blonde girl cradling an infant and woman Olive guessed to be in her late thirties. All were looking directly at her when she walked in.

"We've got a newcomer in our group who'll be stayin' in here with us," Rick said to the other unnamed three. "She'll help out where we need her to. Her name is Olive."

"Nice to meet you, Olive," the teenage girl said, and Olive knew this must be Beth.

"Where did they find you at?" the short-haired woman asked of her.

"_I_ found her," Daryl stepped in, "in Woodbury."

Olive watched as Daryl and the woman exchanged some sort of look, one that seemed to be all-knowing, and then the woman left the room. Daryl shook his head.

"I'm sorry about her," he whispered to Olive as everyone took turns in getting some oatmeal. "She's awful temperamental, but it's worse with me. She treats me like I'm her son most times."

"_She's_ the one who has a problem, not you," Olive said in return. "You have nothin' to be sorry for, Daryl."

"I apologize a lot, huh?"

She nodded, smiling softly. "It's alright - old habits die hard." She knew she was actually referring to the fact that she had a terrible habit - especially with Daryl - of leaving too many words unsaid, too many gestures unmade.

"Preachin' to the choir," he joked, nudging her gently with his elbow. It was still surprising that this was so easy, so natural for each of them and as he handed her a bowl for her to use, she gave him a grateful smile. This smile was more than enough to send Daryl over the edge and that's exactly where it sent him. He realized this woman could never leave his sight again. He couldn't - nay, _wouldn't_ - be without her now that he had her. Something inside of him yearned to have her by his side always.

Olive received her oatmeal in a more-than- thankful manner as she felt Daryl take hold of the hem of her shirt and tug her close to him. She was surprised on one hand, but on the other she could not have been more thrilled that he was holding her closely and in a stance of defensive protection as though she belonged to him and him alone.

"Come on," he said, beckoning her to sit and take her meal with him at his usual place on the cement stairwell. Once he had seated himself, he tugged her down to sit with him and she did so as a soft, peachy blush warmed her cheeks and the tips of her ears.

They ate in silence, but every so often, he would glance over at her and they would share this kind of secret, all-knowing smile. The mindless chattering of those in the room did not ultimately matter. What _did_ matter was that something was kindled between Daryl and Olive, something impenetrable.

Once they had discarded their dishes, Daryl pulled her out of sight of the others and took her hand, looking her directly in the eyes as he placed his fingers through hers.

"Is this...okay?" he asked softly, chewing on the inside of his cheek nervously.

Olive nodded, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze. "Yes," she answered, "it's _more_ than okay."

Daryl's eyes searched her face as he took her up the nearby metal stairs. "I'll show ya where you'll stay at night as long as you don't mind bunkin' with me."

She shook her head, smiling to herself at the notion that he looked like a young boy ready to open gifts on Christmas morning. "I don't mind at all - in fact, I think I _prefer_ bunking with you."

Daryl took her along the rail marking the landing and into his cell. Olive saw that a sheet was ready to be draped over the doorway and that his few belongings were atop the bunk. "I've been sleepin' on top, unless you want to be on top?" He blushed upon realizing that his phrasing could have had a totally different connotation.

Olive shook her head, smoothing the flat of her hand against the mattress. "Lucky for you, I adore bottom." Shocked and slightly embarrassed at the sound of her own words, she nervously reached her free hand up and tucked a bit of hair behind her ear. "Listen, I can't thank you enough for helping me get a place to stay for the night."

"For the night?" He sounded disappointed at the idea of her staying for such a short time. "You can stay as long as ya need to. Know that if ya leave...I'm comin' with ya."

"Daryl..." Olive gave him a sad look. "I can't let you do that."

"Then I guess you'll hafta stick around, huh?"

_Guess I don't have much of a choice_, she thought.


	4. For More Reasons Than One

**A/N:** Olive is my own creation, and the rest is not. :) Thank you all for the positive response! As I have stated before, the first few chapters are rushed, but it slows down a bit from here, I promise.

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The general rules of the prison did not need to be explained. Olive, while quiet, was observant and could pick up on the cues from the group.

It was plain to see that Glenn was not happy with her presence in their midst if for no other reason than she had lived in Woodbury for however brief a time. It was too much to have her there so he avoided her entirely.

Rick was taking to her presence quite well in spite of his mysterious mental preoccupation. Olive wasn't sure how else to put it, seeing as 'afflicted' was _definitely_ the word that described the strong, handsome, able-bodied man who reigned as leader. She admired and pitied him simultaneously, even though she didn't yet know the reason why.

Olive liked Maggie from the start. The pair were very similar in more ways than one and on not digging deeper into these two, they could have passed off as near-twins, superficially speaking. Olive's overall approach to everything was darker than Maggie's more light-hearted disposition, but she, like Rick, was hiding something. _Everyone here is afflicted by something_, she thought.

Something inside Carl was dark and that bothered Olive. He was a sweet boy, probably taking that from his mother, but he had the mannerisms and near-pessimistic outlook like his father. What had happened to this wonderful young man to have broken his heart as it had?

Beth didn't seem to like Olive too much, but Daryl had mentioned in passing how once when he had been speaking to Maggie, she'd told him of Beth's hero-crush on Daryl. Olive understood that the young girl was probably just a bit jealous that there was an attractive woman sharing a cell with their resident bad-ass.

And then, there was Carol. Olive hadn't spoken to her at all yet, but on the third day since she had come to stay at the prison, she was folding laundry when the short-haired woman walked in. Olive knew she'd speak to her now.

"I don't think we've spoken before," Olive said, attempting to be sociable for once. "I'm Olive Nort - "

"I know who you are," Carol said sharply, "and I know _what_ you are." Olive was taken aback. "Glenn said he overheard Merle chatting up a storm about an Olive who lived there and what she did for a living."

Olive swallowed the lump forming in her throat. "He did? Wonderful. Now the rumors are thickening."

"Rumors? Glenn said the details of your exploits were graphic."

Olive nodded. "All lies."

"Listen. I don't think it's a good idea for you to be around the young ones. You might - "

"Do you think I'm going to corrupt them all into lying about being prostitutes?"

"They might do it for real if you're around and act like it's all games to you."

"...based off of the lies about me?"

"Based on the _facts_ about you."

"You can't be serious."

"I think it'd be best for everyone if you left." Olive could feel her hopes of returning to some kind of normalcy fading quickly. Carol shot her a look that said she was entirely serious before she walked away.

Maggie came into the area where Olive stood dumbfounded. "Need any help with that?" she asked, and Olive nodded slowly but remained silent. "Is everything alright?"

Olive handed her the basket of mismatched dry laundry while she took the basket of wet clothes. "I suppose I'm just hopeless," she said softly as she picked up the basket of wet clothes and left the room. Her mind was a wandering mess and she really didn't want to be around anyone but Daryl at that moment - even if she had Daryl, what would she tell him about what Carol had said?

Until the short-haired woman had spoken to her so bitingly, Olive had felt life come back into her veins here. She hadn't felt like that in a long time - it was safety and security. She headed outside to hang up the wet laundry as she seriously pondered leaving the group. _If this keeps up, I'm outta here tomorrow_.

Daryl finished the last of the new bolts he had been working on all morning. Now his stores had been completely replenished. He smiled to himself, suddenly wanting to find Olive and show her how productive he had been. He knew she was assisting with laundry duty for the day, so he was surprised to find that only Maggie was in that area.

"Where's Olive?" he asked as Maggie turned her attention off of her folding to make eye contact with him.

"She left to go hang the wet stuff outside," she answered. "She didn't look too happy."

"Did she say why?" Now he was worried for Olive, hoping her emotions were in check and that she was doing okay.

"Nope, she just said she supposes she's hopeless."

"Why the hell would she say _that_?" He was baffled. Just that morning, she had been all smiles and now she was alone and feeling...well, alone.

"Carol left right before she did. Maybe they had a heart to heart."

_Or Carol ripped her to shreds_, Daryl thought as he rushed off to find Olive and make certain that Carol _hadn't_ torn her a new one. He found her in one of the courtyards and watched for a minute or two as she draped wet clothes across a small set of bleachers.

"I can _hear_ you," Olive said softly, knowing full-well that she was being watched by someone though she couldn't tell who it was with her back turned.

"Maggie said you'd be out here," Daryl said, emerging from his place to come over to her. "She said you looked unwell."

"That's a bit of an understatement." She continued arranging the clothes across the hot, metal bench-seats.

Daryl fornwed. "What happened?" Did Glenn have a tantrum on ya?"

Olive shook her head. "I might be able to handle Glenn...not Carol."

"_Carol_? What did she say to ya?"

"She said it might be better for everyone if I left." Finishing, she turned to face him. He noted that she had a look in her eyes, one of sadness and loss - Daryl's heart sank for her and he promised himself he'd chase away that hint from her eyes.

"Are you fuckin' kiddin' me?" He couldn't believe Carol - the nerve she had to have said that to an undeserving Olive.

"Maybe she's right, Daryl. Your group is a _family_, and I'm an unwanted house guest."

"That ain't true."

"Everyone's thinkin' it, I'm just sayin' it. I don't think your group likes me being here. They were here first - if they don't want me to stay, I'll leave."

"You can't leave. It's too dangerous outside these gates." He was growing inwardly frantic at the thought of her departure, but was far too stoic and inexperienced to know how to word such sentiments.

Olive didn't want to leave in all honesty, especially not since she'd met Daryl. She sensed he hadn't always been as thoughtful as he was for her and she definitely had his group to thank for that. He seemed, to her at least, like the type of man who would much rather tell someone to fuck off than to open himself to them and let them into his head. With her, things were drastically different - of course, time does that to a person. "I've been out there before and I survived."

"I don't like it." He stepped a bit closer to her, the veil behind his eyes silently pleading with hers in an act of desperation.

Olive's brown eyes clung to his gaze, reaching out a loving hand. She wanted to caress his face, to feel his stubble beneath her fingers and to give him what was left of her. With her hand halfway to his face, she curled her fingers and sighed, pulling back with a sigh - she fought back her urges and won.

"They _need_ you here - I don't give a shit if they like it or not. They'll respect ya or they'll lose ya, and I don't want that to happen. If ya leave...I'm leavin', too."

She couldn't allow him to leave if she did - they needed him far more than he knew, more than his group was willing to say. All she could say in return was, "I'll think about it."

Daryl nodded slowly after a moment's hesitation, knowing that if that was the answer he was given, he'd have to take it with a grain of salt and accept that the decision she made was going to be the best for her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and kiss into oblivion and tell her that everything would be alright, but he didn't. "I have a bone to pick with Carol," he said, silently wishing that they could stand heart-to-heart forever. "I'm gonna go talk to her. I'll see ya later."

Olive nodded. "See you." His eyes gave her a gentle twinkle before he left her standing there thinking about how he was going to approach his coming conversation with Carol.

Daryl stormed into the prison in search of Carol. His steely-eyed gaze, when it settled on her, shot daggers in her direction as he made his way over to her.

"What the fuck was _that_ all about, huh?" he demanded.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, looking at him with a confused expression.

"Talkin' to Olive and sayin' our group would be better off without her."

Carol nodded firmly. "I believe we all would benefit if she left."

"_I_ wouldn't benefit if she left."

"Cut the crap, Daryl. You know better than anyone else here what she's really like."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"We both know how she is - or how she _was_ back in Woodbury and I don't think it's a good idea to expose Carl and Beth to someone like that."

Daryl's eyes narrowed. "Those are all lies."

"She said that, too."

"Then maybe ya shoulda listened!"

Carol winced as he raised his voice to her, surprised because he hadn't yelled at her in such a long time. "Wow." She paused, shaking her head. "Look at what she's done to you."

"_She_ ain't done nothin' to me."

"Don't tell me you actually care for this woman." He remained silent, and Carol feared the worst, her chin quivering. "She can't take you away from us."

"Don'tcha mean away from _you_?"

Carol straightened her spine. "What gave you that notion? I've never said anything like that."

"You don't hafta say it. God, Carol - everybody around here knows it."

"Then how come..."

"Aw, hell. That's like incest the way I see ya."

She appeared hurt and slightly shocked by his words but took them for what they were, and treated them like gospel truth. "And this Olive...could she turn out to make you happy?" Daryl nodded, and he had finally broken the bad habit of saying nothing. This time, Daryl Dixon had opened up about something that he was really, truly feeling and it was all thanks to Olive. Any woman who could turn his tides so drastically and in a fairly short amount of time was worth all the troubles of hell to keep around. Carol nodded, defeated. "Tell her I'm sorry and I take back what I said before."

Daryl acknowledged her words and decided to leave the room before anyone else got themselves hurt. He hadn't meant to hurt Carol - he had just wanted to convey where he stood about her _and_ about Olive. Oh, Olive...

Something _had_ to be done to persude her to stay. He could only convince her to a point, so something else was needed to sweeten the deal. It had to be assertive. It had to be honest. It _had_ to be Rick. He was their leader and the one person clever enough to convince a newcomer to join their family on a permanent basis.

Daryl searched for him, glad that he was spending much-needed time with the baby.

"Rick, can I see ya for a minute?" he asked of the leader, who nodded and handed the baby off to her brother so he could cross the room.

"What's on your mind, brother?" Rick asked, noting that the usually controlled Daryl was appearing to be more worried than usual.

"I need you to talk to Olive," Daryl requested and when Rick looked at him inquisitively, he continued. "She's thinkin' about leavin'."

"What if she wants to leave?"

"I don't _want_ her to leave."

Rick's brows rose. "Oh, yeah? Why not?"

"Lotsa reasons." Rick wasn't going to stand for vague answers. Daryl sighed and chewed the inside of his cheek, nervous about answering the questions further. "She's capable and a hardworker and she's clever - "

"What kinda adjectives are those?" The sheriff's deputy chuckled. "C'mon, man. You can do better than that."

"Fine. She's smart, broken...sweet, and just...needs somebody to love and love her back."

Now they were getting somewhere. "And do you think you're the guy for the job? I mean, all o' that sounds a lot like you, too."

"I think it's density - "

"Destiny, you mean?"

"Shut it. I know what I meant."

"She must be some kinda special girl to make you feel so strongly." Daryl nodded, and Rick could see that Daryl's words and actions were genuine. He was in the midst of having something substantial with Olive, and Rick was not about to let this get away from Daryl no matter what it took in saying or doing for Rick to convince her to stay.

Rick asked around as to Olive's whereabouts. If she was anything like Daryl, and Rick suspected that she was, she could be any_where_ with any_one_ doing any_thing_. When he did find her, she was outdoors on one of those second-level access bridges, the very same one where he had shared words with Lori just a few days before her death. He could feel his head spinning, reeling from the tragic loss of his wife, but said nothing before he stepped onto the bridge.

"Rick," Olive said attentively as he came towards her general direction. "I can go somewhere else if you wanna be alone."

"Actually, you're exactly the person I would like to talk to," he commented, sensing that she stiffened nervously. "I know we haven't really had much of a chance to talk, so I figure now is as good of a time as any."

Olive folded her arms across her chest. "Whatcha wanna talk about?"

"_You_, if that's alright." She hesitated tentatively and then gave a consenting nod.

"What would you like to know?"

"What happened to you before Woodbury?"

"I came from Mobile, Alabama." She licked her lips and sighed before continuing. "My group used to consist of me, my dad, my brother, my baby sister, my sister's boyfriend, and some of my brother's friends. My dad had been a professional big game hunter - he was almost always out of the country, but we loved him. He taught us all how to hunt, gather food, decipher poisonous plants and herbs, look for water - typical survival skills." She paused. Rick watched as her expression, once fond, now turned to darkness. "When the outbreak hit Mobile, there were panics and riots and looting like you wouldn't believe. My dad was shot trying to get supplies from our local grocery store. Walkers had ransacked the store and broke out of the doors, ripping my father apart. We left and took off for the woods. Stumbled across a tool shed and that's where my weapons come from - I didn't upgrade them until we came across an abandoned hardware store. Most of our group members either fucking abandoned us or were eaten by walkers when they'd been caught careless.

"And your brother and sister?"

Olive shook her head sadly. "Both gone." Rick frowned. "My brother hanged himself by his belt from a tree after watching his best friend get eaten. For a while, it was just me and my sister braving the end of the worldand then she, like everything else, was gone."

"I'm sorry to hear that - truly I am. So that's how you reached Woodbury?"

Olive nodded. "Needed a place to stay for the winter. Even with fewer walkers outside, I couldn't risk freezing to death or worse."

"Can't say I wouldn't o' done the same in your situation." Rick shifted his weight and placed his hand onto the fence links.

"Anything else you wanna know?" _Please say no...anything but Daryl..._

"Daryl thinks awful highly of you, you know."

"I think highly of him, too." _Not too obvious now. Watch yourself_.

"He told me you'd mentioned leavin'." Olive nodded into his pause. "Mind if I ask why?"

A shrug shook her shoulders lightly. "Some people said I'd better leave, that your group would be better off without me."

"Who told you that?"

Olive sighed, her eyes narrowing. "Carol."

"Ah."

"Glenn doesn't seem to like me too much either."

"He's sore at Woodbury for what happened to him and Maggie. Until he comes 'round, he'll continue to see you as a direct threat. Carol is a whole other problem, and it ain't because of you. It's because you're with Daryl."

"She got a crush on him or somethin'?"

"That's _one_ way of lookin' at it." He turned to face her. "I'm willing to bet Daryl hasn't mentioned this about Carol yet, but she had been a victim of domestic abuse. Her husband was eaten by walkers on a night out camp was raided. Now, Carol had a daughter named Sophia..." And Rick told Olive all about Sophia's disappearance and of the effect it had had on Daryl. Olive's face fell as she listened to the dark, demented tale, and she found herself pitying Carol for more reasons than one.

"I should apologize to her," Olive said with a light shake of her head. "I feel like _shit_ for how I've been so angry with her."

"Don't beat yourself up over it - she can dish it out sometimes, so she probably set herself up for your anger."

"I still feel like a terrible person."

Rick paused, studying her for a moment or two. "I can see why Daryl is so taken with you. You're a good person - I think our group has lost enough good people for one apocalypse." Olive chuckled and Rick smiled lightly. "I'd really like it if you stayed."

"If I stay, Daryl stays, too, you know."

Rick nodded, grinning some. "That'd be the idea."

Olive thought about what he had said. Now that she better understood Carol's situation, she could be more prepared in handling her. Glenn was going to be an obstacle for a while, but it was understandable at least. She thought about Daryl - her sweet-hearted bad-ass - and knew that his group would be torn without him, and that, then again, so would _she_. She couldn't let go of him - not by a goddamn longshot, so she promised herself that she'd stay by his side no matter what was going to happen. No one, not even the Governor, could stop her now that she had found a group of people willing to put up with her, shelter her, and help her gain back the normalcy she had lost so long ago.

"I'll stay," she said, flashing Rick a small smile before leaving him to his thoughts and heading off to find Daryl and tell him of her decision to stay. The first place she looked was in their shared cell, and as she entered, she nearly crashed into him as he was exiting.

"Olive," he said, seeming almost relieved to see her, "hey. I was just goin' to - " He was interrupted as her arms encircledhis waist and her chin rested against his collarbone. " - look for ya..."

"I'm staying here," she said into the shoulder of his shirt.

Daryl sighed gently before slowly and shakily sliding his arms around her back, holding her body tightly to his.

Neither spoke a word as they each enjoyed the embrace of one another. Daryl had, once again, surprised himself in her presence in that he was greatly comforted by her embrace and had even found himself able to return the gesture. Olive only knew that he was here, she was here, and that they were in this together.

But all good things must come to an end and in the shadow of the coming storm, all will, in its wake, fall.


	5. Firefights

**A/N:** Ugh! An update at last, my pretties! I'm so sorry it has been so long since my last, but since I met Norman Reedus, Sarah Wayne Callies, Scott Wilson, Lew Temple, Chandler Riggs, Tony Todd, and Michael Rooker over the weekend, I think it's safe to say that my actions were completely justifiable. :) Anyway, enjoy! Reviews are MUCH-appreciated (no flames)!

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Olive had lain awake all night. Sometimes it was a difficult task for her to shut her thoughts off at night, a sure-fire side effect of her insomnia - of course, not feeling safe didn't help her unusual sleep pattern either. It had been months since she had gotten a good night's sleep and the past couple of nights at the prison hadn't done much by way of betterment of her health. All she wanted was a solid night's sleep and, really, was that too much to ask for?

Eventually, her own anxiety got the better of her and she sat up on her bunk, ducking to miss the bottom of Daryl's bed as she swung her legs over the edge and stood. She gathered up her clothes, choosing a fresh set for the day, and peered over the edge of his bed to make certain that he was asleep before she began to shed her old clothes to step into the new.

Sure enough, he was still sound asleep. He slept on his back with his feet closer to the entryway, and Olive figured this was because of his hunter-strong alertness, his ever-watchful demeanor. Olive smiled at her fondness for this man, still with a hint of hesitation. That was probably due to her lack of experience in the field of fondness and how one should conduct oneself in the presence of someone they have an obvious connection with, friendly or otherwise.

Slipping her clean shirt over her head, she rubbed her deodorant under her arms and straightened herself before she exited the cell and made her way to the breakfast area. As no one else was up yet so far as she could tell, she grabbed a bottle of water and decided on checking the amount of formula left for the baby. It seemed like they were running low on their food stores, but her sense of hyper-security from Woodbury's endless stores and their Walmart was still something to get used to.

Armed with her weapons - including her loaded Beretta, Olive exited the building and entered into one of the courtyards. With the ever-present sound of walkers penetrating the alleged fresh air, Olive could hardly constitute this as living when all she wanted to do was breathe the free air. Alone like this, her imagination made every attempt to run wild and fancy-free, but she was still trying to pick up the threads of an old life, a life she was bittersweet on letting go of.

"Kinda nice out here, huh?" a voice on the throes of pubescence said from closeby and Olive turned her head in time to see Carl approaching her warily.

Olive nodded. "Could be better, could be a helluva lot worse the way I see it," she answered. "It's early. What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep." His eyes looked towards the area where a few walkers were wandering just outside the outer fences. "You?"

"I have insomnia. Sleep isn't an option for me more often than not."

"Nightmares?"

"Sometimes," she said and that was, more or less, true. "Mostly it's because I don't feel truly safe enough to sleep."

Carl nodded, squinting as the rising sun became brighter. "I know what you mean. Lately, things have been so screwed up that I just want all of this to be over with."

_Such heart for one so young_. "Life before this was different, that's for sure, but I think this life has made you stronger and wiser than the old life could have ever made you."

Carl gave her a sweet smile. "You're nice. I don't see why a couple others are sayin' you're not a nice person."

"Nice people don't get very far in a world like this, Carl." Gesturing back towards the building, Olive smiled gently. "I'd better get you back before you dad tans _both_ our hides."

Carl chuckled and led her back into the prison, staying silent for most of the way back until he said over his shoulder, "You know, nice people may not make it very far, but I'd rather have them than someone rude who lasts forever. I'd choose them _anyday_."

Olive could feel the strength of the boy's heartwarming words. They filled her with a hope so strong it brought tears to her eyes. She held them back and entered the room with the tables.

Beth was fixing breakfast and the rest were waiting on standby. Rick, Glenn, Hershel, and Daryl were all in their own huddle speaking in hushed tones. The second Daryl saw Olive, he headed straight over to her.

"G'morning," she greeted upon noticing that he looked both relieved and flustered.

"I wondered where you'd gotten off to," he said in tones that only she could hear. "You were gone this mornin' and I thought you'd left or somethin'."

Olive frowned, noting how seriously worried he appeared to be. "I didn't wanna wake you to tell you I wanted to go for some fresh air."

Daryl nodded, chewing on his thumbnail as he thought too hard about all of this. "And Carl?"

"He came out same time I did and we talked about how we miss life before all of it went to shit." She paused, glancing over to admire the boy as he spoke to Beth. "He's a good kid."

"Yeah, he is." He hooked his thumb over to where his little group was. "C'mon." Olive followed him over to the group.

"...it's too dangerous..."

"...we don't have any more..."

"It's not like we're exactly _starving_ here."

"But if the Governor shows up, we'll all need our strength to fight him off. We can expect he'll bring a militia with him, isn't that right, Olive?"

Olive was surprised that Rick was addressing her in front of the others. Regaining composure, she nodded. "Philip never goes anywhere outside of Woodbury without a small group of men armed to the teeth to back him up," she added.

"See?" Rick said to the other two. "That's why we need protein."

"Protein?" Daryl chimed in. "Like meat and stuff?"

Glenn nodded. "Rick wants us to make a hunting run," he explained, "and by 'us' I mean me, you, and Olive, but I don't think this is a good idea."

"Sounds like a good idea to me. What's your problem with it?"

Glenn sighed, glancing at Olive with an almost accusing look. "I'm not sure I trust the idea of bringing a stranger with us. What if something goes wrong?"

"If somethin' goes wrong, it won't be _her_ fault. It'll be _ours_." Olive could tell that Daryl was getting defensive about the situation, so her fingers lightly grazed the seamline of his pants, grabbing the edge of it discreetly and feeling him calm down almost instantly.

"Keep an eye out on each other and you'll all be just fine," Rick said more for Glenn's sake than for anyone else's. Glenn shot Daryl a look of reluctance before he rolled his eyes and left the group in a huff.

Daryl turned to Olive. "Make sure you grab enough ammo for the journey. A knife could mean the difference between livin' and dyin' out there."

"Of course," she said with a nod. Naturally she had no other choice than to leave the prison armed and on her fullest alert.

Glenn said his goodbyes to the Greenes as Daryl spoke with Carl, and Olive made her way over to Carol.

"Carol," Olive said, wringing her hands behind her back, "I just wanted to apologize if I've been a bother to you. I didn't mean to be."

Carol shook her head sympathetically. "No, _I_ am the one who should be sorry," she corrected. "I was bitchy to you and I shouldn't have reacted that way."

Olive gave her a small smile, glad to have straightened that out before departing on the outing she had been assigned to. She doubted that she and Carol could ever become "close," but they could get along at least, be on decent terms with one another.

Leaving the prison was a complicated business as it required watchers and carefully timed precision to close the gates on time to keep the waiting, hungry walkers at bay. Daryl put a few out of their misery, regraining from making unnecessarily loud noises with gunfire.

"Stay close to me if ya can at all," Daryl cautioned her as the three of them headed into the woods together. Olive withdrew her pitchfork from its place in a belt loop as she did just as Dixon had asked.

Glenn huffed nearby as he aimed, shot at, and downed a chipmunk, grabbing the little guy and placing him into his satchel. "I still don't see how new people are a necessity to our survival when we were doing just fine before," Glenn grumbled.

Daryl gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes as he set his sights on a squirrel. "We lost T-Dog, Lori, Shane - hell, they were people we _needed_. Olive here has what it takes to replace 'em."

"Why in hell do we need to - "

"Dammit, Glenn. We need _bodies_, more people who can help protect those who can't save 'emselves."

Olive said nothing as the two men continued arguing. On one hand, she could understand the Korean's hesitation and blatant disregard for the lives of those who were not a part of their close-knit crew as newcomers could oten pose a bigger threat than the ones they walked with every day. Then again, their group was more than she could have ever asked for and she wanted to stick around for Daryl's sanity especially. The two had an unspoken bond that neither could break, nor did they want to.

"I'm sorry," Olive said to Daryl when Glenn moved ahead of them a ways. "If I'd known how angry he was at my being here, I wouldn't have come."

Daryl shook his head. "Don't let him get to ya," he encouraged. "He ain't been happy for a long while and it ain't 'cause o' you."

"Still, I feel badly."

"Don't. Just - "

_Pah!_ The fire of a gunshot nearby followed by some vicious shouting was heard up ahead in the direction that Glenn had gone off into. Daryl and Olive took off, weapons loaded and raised as they made their way towards the sounds. As the two varying voices got louder and clearer, Daryl's heart dropped at the sound of a familiar voice.

"Better put that gun down, you almond-eyed motherfucker, or I'll smartcha something good," the raspy, rough voice said.

"Try me!" Glenn yelled before Olive and Daryl made it into the clearing.

Daryl's crossbow raised, his eyes widened upon sighting the very end to the quest he had inadvertently shoved to the back of his mind and to the bottom of his to-do list. "...Merle?"

The elder Dixon brother smirked devilishly at the sight of his baby brother. "Hey, little brother," the rough-voiced man said, showing off his metal-encased arm. "I see you've picked up the Governor's lost hooker - had yourself a good time with her, have ya?"

Daryl lowered his crossbow just slightly, irked that his brother was being insensitive towards Olive, given the hell she'd been through in Woodbury. "Like hell. You of all people know it ain't like that, and you sure as hell know she ain't a fuckin' hooker."

"Could've fooled me with her revealing tank tops, her sensual talks, her provocative floosy attitude - "

"Shut the fuck up, bro!" Daryl gritted, broadening his shoulders to approach his brother quickly and defensively, but Olive quickly stepped in between them and placed a firm hand on Daryl's chest as the brothers hollered obscenities back and forth at each other.

"Daryl, stop!" she yelled, looking him straight in the eyes as Glenn kept his weapon raised. "Fighting with him isn't going to help anything!"

"Sure as hell makes me feel better," he said gruffly, shrugging off her hand and walking away, pacing like a caged and enraged tiger.

"Better listen to your sweetheart, Darylena - "

"Daryl's right, Merle," Olive said, turning her sights to him. "Shut the fuck up."

"The hell are you doing out here?" Glenn demanded, his weapon still raised and his jaw set, clearly ready to fire whenever he had a chance to.

Merle readjusted the straps on the case holding his stump of an arm, a scar from a choice he'd made some time ago. "I came out here lookin' for my brother...looks like I found him hands down."

"More like _hand_ down," Daryl corrected snarkily. "We found your hand on that roof."

"A lucky choice. Wouldn't be standing here if I'd kept it."

"I wouldn't object to that," Glenn chimed in, fuming so badly that Olive could've sworn she saw smoke exiting his ears.

"Me either," Olive said, a hint in her voice that Merle and Merle alone would recognize. "I can't believe you're out here right now. I thought Philip said this was a red zone."

"It's supposed to be," the older Dixon said. "But I've only seen a few biters since I left that God-forsaken town."

And, at that moment, before anyone could say anything else or even properly deal with the situation at hand, the unthinkable happened. Gunfire. Rounds were being fired, and the direction of the echoes suggested that the prison was under fire. In a panic, Daryl and Olive turned around and headed back to the prison, all of them following the sound - Merle and Glenn were, no doubt, right behind them.

Olive grabbed her Beretta from her pocket as she ran, breathing deeply as she loaded a fresh clip into her weapon and prepared for the absolute worst-case scenario. Up ahead, they could see the clearing of the prison grounds and the scent and sounds of a firefight filled the air. She glanced about twenty feet from her position and saw Rick backed against the fence, a walker gnashing its gnarly teeth at him.

Jumping to his aid,Olive equipped her pitchfork, rushing over to Rick and quickly jabbing the walker's head and made certain she was careful enough to not hit Rick. Daryl came to her six, taking down a few walkers nearby as Glenn and Rick cleared their path.

"The hell is goin' on?!" Daryl said over the noise of the weapons being fire. He, Olive, and Rick ducked below the tall grasses and took out their heavier firearms.

Rick took a shot at a foe that the other two couldn't see yet. "The goddamn Governor and his men are here - one of 'em was in the guard tower all night," he explained gruffly. "I don't know how the hell he got through, but he did. Axel's dead."

Olive frowned. She hadn't known the prisoner too long, but she had sensed he was a decent person at heart. Her mouth formed a soft 'o' as she prepared to say something else, but she refrained as something drew near, something to aid the Governor in his bid to size up those at the prison.

Merle crawled up beside Olive as an armored van barreled down the road to the main gate and ran it over, continuing in to the grass of the courtyards as a ceasefire from both sides of the skirmis was reached. All was silent and still as a masked figure exited the van and opened up the back doors, running away as both awaited what was to come with baited breath.

An all-too-familiar sound hitched in the air around the van, something that survivors of this hell heard like a devilish echo in their sleep. Walkers grumbled and groaned their way out of the back end of the truck, spilling out of it in search of fresh blood.

Olive knew that such a horror could only have been both concocted and executed by Philip, and as he and his men slunk back into their vehicles and sped away from what they'd left behind, Olive looked on the other side of the fence noticing that Hershel was trapped in the courtyard with a horde of the undead.

"Oh, God," she said aloud, "Hershel!" Knowing that the old man could not defend himself as an unarmed cripple, she quickly and fluidly climbed the links of the fence and made sure to be careful of the barbed wire. A ten-foot drop left her ankle a bit sore but she took out her Beretta , pitchfork in the free hand.

Daryl saw her brash move and his heart dropped into his stomach. "Olive!" he shouted, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder as he climbed the fence as she had, dropping over the other side and catching his arm on the barbed wire.

Olive downed a couple of walkers headed in Hershel's direction, emptying her clip before shoving the gun into her pocket and taking the pitchfork into both hands. Gripping the handle, she rushed forward and jabbed the heads of a couple of walkers that were far too close to Hershel. Daryl was right behind her, on her six in case something lunged for her unexpectedly. He downed two walkers to assist her.

"Come on!" she said as she pulled the old man's arm in the direction of the prison. Daryl covered for the other two, watching as around fifteen more walkers got out of the van and came at them, arms outstretched and groans gnashing.

"Through here!" Maggie beckoned, leading them into the main courtyard and closing the gate the instant they entered. Hershel sat down on one of the benches to catch his breath as everyone dealt with the aftermath of what they had just gone through.

"Daryl, you're hit," Olive remarked as she finished wrapping her foot and her ankle as she and Daryl regrouped inside of their cell.

Daryl glanced at his arm, noticing the trickle of fresh blood breaking through the blood that had already congealed. "Just a nick," he said, shrugging it off.

Olive shook her head. "If that gets infected, it'll fester." Stepping closer, she noted that he winced slightly when her fingers touched his flesh. Her eyes scanned the wound, pulling out a twist of barbed wire from the exposed under-flesh. "Now it'll heal properly."

Daryl observed her intently as she grabbed a bit of the peroxide Hershel had lent them and dipped a bit of old t-shirt in it, placing it onto the wound as it had opened up once more. Olive then took a bit of athletic bandage and wrapped it carefully around the circumference of his arm. "Thanks."

Olive shook her head. "I'm the one who should be doing the thanking. You had my ass out there."

Daryl shrugged. "You needed help - I couldn't stand there and let ya get eaten while doin' the right thing."

She tucked the end of the bandage into itself, patting it slightly to make sure it would hold. A soft smile crossed her lips as her brown eyes met his, somehow having never known how beautiful they were before that moment. This glance, unlike the ones before, was much different as this one stuck Olive's feet to the floor and she found herself fighting back the need to kiss him.

Daryl swallowed. "So, about Merle..." he said, clearing his throat as he silenced his urges and attempted to keep his uncharacteristically passionate thoughts at bay for the moment.

Olive nodded, growing more serious. "Do you _want_ him here?" she asked.

"He's my brother, ya know? He came here to find _me_."

"I don't like it - it's too coincidental. I can tell you he hasn't changed, Daryl."

"Still an asshole?" Olive nodded her head and he chewed on his lip lightly. "Guess I'll play it by ear then."

Olive didn't argue with that as his decisions regarding his brother were exactly that: _his_ decisions.


	6. Tongue-Tied

**A/N:** Unfortunately, all of my stories are on hiatus until I return from boot camp. Just eight weeks - so sorry, guys! :( Once I return, I WILL finish them all!

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If there was ever going to be a decision by Rick's judgment call that Olive disapproved of it was the scheduled meeting with the Governor. She wasn't sure exactly how this had been arranged or when, but what she _did_ know was that Philip was quick to anger and could not be easily swayed. If she had been in Rick's position, she would never have agreed to a sit-down meeting - then again, she knew the risks of such a man and crossing that line was an irrational and unnecessary decision. There was only so much she could say to persuade Rick to see the light, but if this is what he thought would be best, so be it.

Olive climbed onto the back of Daryl's bike as he refused to allow her to ride in the other vehicle being taken. Perhaps it was for her own safety, or maybe he just wanted to keep an eye on her to ensure that she didn't try and jet. Either way, both enjoyed the feel of the wind on their faces and of her arms circled around his waist. It was an intensely liberating feeling to be able to touch each other and not be objectified or scrutinized for it.

Daryl wished that they could be more open about their mutual feelings and, thus, could be more affectionate - _the fuck are ya thinkin'? Merle's around so cut that shit out_.

Olive savored the ride to the meeting place as this opportunity was a rare one indeed. She was also making the most of the silence that came with being apart from Merle. She couldn't stand him and after the way he had spoken to her, she knew that Daryl wasn't pleased with him either. It was all anyone could do to keep the peace these days and wherever Merle was, peace was difficult to come by.

The meeting was to be held in an abandoned warehouse somewhere about halfway between Woodbury and the prison. Pulling off-road, Hershel stopped the car and parked. Rick climbed out while Daryl stopped the bike and propped it up, following Rick into the warehouse to make sure he would get in there safely.

Olive kept a watchful eye on the men Philip had brought along. Martinez shot suggestive wink after seductive glance at her, but she merely rolled her eyes and kept one hand locked onto her pitchfork just in case he got too close for comfort. She was relieved beyond compare when Daryl emerged from the warehouse and nodded.

"They're in there," he commented as he leaned back against the car.

"So, Norton," Martinez began, "how's prison life treatin' ya?"

"It's grand," she answered, not daring to make eye contact.

"Ready to come back home yet?"

Her eyes gave him a steely stare. "I _am_ home."

Daryl nudged his elbow into her side, gesturing up ahead a few hundred yards by the treeline. Several walkers were wandering and groaning, so he started towards them with her in tow.

"I don't like the way he was lookin' at ya," Daryl commented in a low volume.

Olive sensed the protective concern in his voice and nodded. "He always looked at me like that," she said with a shrug.

"He does it again, he gets an automatic arrow to the ass." She smirked at the idea and enjoyed how protective of her he was becoming, if he wasn't already overly-protective.

"Don't like a man looking at me that isn't you, eh?" she asked before she could think properly on stopping herself.

Daryl stopped walking and turned to look at her directly, shock pasted all over his features. They were alone and she had blurted a question he hadn't been expecting and didn't quite know how to respond to. "Olive..."

"I'm sorry." Sheepishly, she attempted to keep moving ahead but he stopped her by grabbing her forearm.

"Whaddya want me to say?" His eyes were staring down at the grass to avoid contact with hers.

"I didn't mean to put you on the spot, Daryl. I'm sorry I said it."

"I'm not."

Olive's eyes widened as she turned back to face him. He had just opened up to her even though it was in that subtle way of his. "What are you saying?"

"You're right. I didn't like the way he was looking at ya because it made me wanna beat his ass like I wanted to beat Merle's when we found 'im."

"Why did you want to beat them?"

"Merle was just bein' Merle and givin' ya no respect, and that Mexican...he was comin' on to my girl."

Olive's heart sunk at his words, knowing he was being honest when his ears blushed a bright red. Now he was _really_ starting to open up to her, but she felt badly for having forced those words out of him - or, at least, that's what she thought.

"Daryl," she muttered, moving his hand off of her arm and giving his fingers a light squeeze.

"What?" he asked when she said nothing.

Smiling softly, she shook her head and knew that there was a time and a place for romantics and here wasn't it. She brought his knuckles to her lips briefly before letting them go so she could down the few walkers nearby. Daryl was left in stunned silence.

So many questions swam around inside his head, and all of them dealt with her. Was she denying him? That was impossible as he knew from the residual sting of her lips against his calloused knuckles. So then why had she not reciprocated his sentiments? He had never idly trusted anyone in his life, so to be open with her was scarring him internally and opening fresh wounds through which his real feelings could emerge.

He watched in silence as she took down the small band of walkers single-handedly and as she made her way back to him, he, too, played the silent card, leaving her a bit more than bewildered.

Hershel was in the midst of telling an old fable when they made it back to him, which wasn't surprising. They were all a little stir-crazy these days, even the Woodbury residents. Daryl leaned back against the truck with Olive at his side, and a terribly awkward silence ensued between them. Neither knew what to say, so both remained silent.

A blonde-haired lionness of a woman stood closeby, and Olive instantaneously knew that this woman's name was Andrea, and, judging by the look on Daryl's face when he saw her, there was another level of familiarity that Olive couldn't quite place.

"You look well," Andrea remarked on Daryl's appearance.

Daryl nodded. "You, too," he said, attempting to sound as indifferent as possible.

It occurred to Olive that Daryl and Andrea had already caught up, possibly when the blonde had gone from Woodbury for a day. Exactly what it was they had caught up on was a complete mystery, but it didn't matter.

Hershel moved to discuss things with Andrea while Martinez tossed a pack of cigarettes to Daryl.

"You want one?" the Hispanic asked and the youngest Dixon nodded.

"Ain't had one in so long," he said, placing one into his mouth before offering one to Olive.

Olive nodded, knowing that she was far too tense for her own good. "Sure," she said in response, taking one to place between her lips as she leaned towards Daryl's lighter, taking a deep drag to allow the tobacco to burn properly. The sweet taste in her mouth relaxed her entirely and she exhaled.

"That's nice," he remarked about his own drag as he tossed the pack back to Martinez. It felt good to have a cigarette once again, a reminder of his life before. Olive nodded in agreement just before the awkward silence ensued once more.

Both of them wished they could break the silence and go back to when her mental filter had failed. Out in the field away from the privacy and comfort zone that the prison had become was not the place to be bringing up personal feelings, and the last thing Olive had meant to do was prod him until he told her the truth. On his end, Daryl hadn't meant to make it appear as though he'd been offended by what she had said because, in truth, he _wanted_ to tell her how he felt around her.

It was clear that each was misunderstanding the other entirely, but neither felt comfortable enough outside of their prison cell to discuss things in further detail. Until then, there was nothing but silence and stolen glances to be shared between them.

Rick and the Governor emerged from their meeting after a short while. When Olive caught Philip's eye-patched glare, she shuddered and turned away with Daryl just behind her. She sat down behind him on the bike, her arms slipping cautiously around his waist as the car and the bike took off towards the prison once again.

Olive's mind dwelled on the face Philip had made upon sighting her for the first time since she had broken herself and Daryl out of there. He looked pissed off, moreso than he had been in a long time, that she had seen anyway. She sensed that he wanted her head on a silver platter and perhaps he did. Either way, Daryl could sense that there was something bothering her, so he silently removed a hand from the grips and slid it over her arms as they circled his waist.

His fingers pressed into her skin as if to tell her that they had much to discuss once they returned to the prison and when they pulled up to the building, each could feel relief as they reentered the cell block. In silence, they moved past the others until they were back in their cell.

"Rick has yet to tell us what he and Philip talked about," Olive said.

Daryl shrugged. "That ain't what matters now," he said grimly, eyes giving her an all-knowing sort of look. "Listen - "

"I'm sorry for asking you that earlier. If it's true or not, that's none of my business."

"O' course it's yer business."

"Still shouldn't have asked."

"Hey." His voice was low, tender, specific. He moved over until he was right in front of her, staring deeply into her eyes. "Y'ain't got nothin' to be sorry for. I shouldn'ta made ya feel so embarrassed. I shoulda answered ya."

"And what would you have said?"

"I hate when other men look at ya in the wrong way. You deserve better." He was chewing softly on his bottom lip, which strengthened Olive's present attraction for him so much that she couldn't hold herself back any longer and closed the gap between them, leaning up and pressing her lips against his.

Daryl's entire body stiffened upon feeling the softness of her nicotine-flavored lips as he remained rock-solid and unable to move. The once heated tension between them was fading quickly as, apparently, their tension was physically-based. Their kiss was still, unmoving, and a symbol of a hope they'd once lost being reawakened.

Olive was the one to break the contact, wide-eyed and tongue-tied. She stared into his eyes and Daryl could see something change behind her irises, like she was finally _alive_ again. "I'm s - " she began when she was interrupted by Daryl's finger against her lips.

He said nothing, staring at her lips before taking a hold of the back of her hair and pushing her face towards his once again, his mouth meeting hers in a firmer kiss than before, though keeping it still. He wasn't ready to deepen it at all, but the fact that he even _wanted_ to _continue_ kissing her meant more to Olive than anything else. The unspoken tension between them was, at last, broken. As the pair of them pulled back, Olive smiled at the memory of how he had tasted the first time they had shared a kiss - this was _better_.

"Guys," Maggie said from the entrance into their cell, a look of shock on her face, "Rick's down there. Guessin' he wants to talk to us." The two followed her out and down the stairs to the main floor of the block. The others were waiting, gathering around Rick.

Rick looked perturbed as he draped his hands on either side of his hips and nodded slowly as he looked around at each person in the group. "We're goin' to war," he announced and everyone in the room grew strangely quiet.


	7. This Sorrowful Life

**A/N: **With only two chapters left in this story, I figured it's about time I wrap it up some time before the start of season 4. I'll have a whole new season of episodes to sum up and alter for my story once that happens, so be on the lookout! As always, Olive and all the components of her therein are mine.

**::::  
::::**

When Daryl mentioned to Olive just after dawn that Rick wished to speak to him and Hershel alone, she hadn't thought that they'd be discussing said topic so hushed and so secluded. They had met outside in the main courtyard, all three of them hunched in a corner where the wall met the fence.

Olive watched them closely from a distance, eyeing the Walkers growling and seething from the other side of the fence. With the chain-link wall acting as a barrier between the three, Olive still couldn't justify feeling safe letting Daryl get too close. Sure, she was more than well-aware of how smart he was, how apocalypse-savvy he had become, but she still kept an eye on him, hoping with every breath that she didn't lose him. She hadn't yet, and she sure as hell wasn't about to.

"It's the only way," Rick said in conclusion to the idea he proposed to his most-trusted pair. "No one else knows."

Daryl chewed on his bottom lip, turning his head slightly to see Olive watching them. He turned back to Rick. "You gonna tell 'em?" he asked.

"Not 'til after. We have to do it today - it has to be quiet."

"You got a plan?" If he did, Daryl was all ears for it.

"Tell her we need to talk. Wait for the others."

Daryl pondered this. Rick still wasn't necessarily in his completely right mind yet, but given his circumstance, who the hell _would_ be? Still, he was making vital progress and that was due, in part, to Michonne's presence there at the prison. Even Daryl, his bro of sorts, couldn't pull him out of the void he'd fallen into after losing Lori, so he was skeptical and shook his head gently. "It just ain't us, man."

Hershel nodded in agreement, adjusting himself on the crutches. "No," he said to Rick. "No, it isn't." With that, he lumbered away, the familiar 'click' of the crutches reverberating off the cement.

Rick looked to Daryl, now his only support in all of this. "We do this, we avoid a fight," he explained. "No one else dies."

_Wouldn't __**that**__ just be the day?_ Daryl thought to himself, nodding though he was still feeling somewhat sketchy. "Okay," he agreed, fully in support of whatever Rick found to be the best decision.

"We need someone else."

Daryl nodded, knowing exactly the person to whom Rick was referring. "I'll talk to 'im."

"I'll do it."

"I'll go with ya."

"No. Just me."

With that, Officer Friendly headed off in search of the older Dixon and Daryl met Olive halfway, the snarls of the Walkers now even more menacing, possibly at the scent of a woman.

"What was that all about?" she asked instinctively before correcting herself. "You don't have to tell - "

"Rick wants to give Michonne over to the Governor."

Olive's features shifted, tensing up. "Is he actually going to?" When Daryl nodded, Olive sighed. "That's _not_ the best idea. Rick has no idea what Philip is capable of."

"You've seen him do his work?" Daryl asked, eyeing her sympathetically when she made no move to respond. Her silence spoke volumes. "I don't think he'll go through with it, Olive. Rick may have been out of his damn mind lately, but he's comin' back full-circle. He's makin' real progress."

Olive squinted in the light of the sun. "I'm sure he is. I just don't want him compromising the group to satisfy his own conscience. That isn't fair to everyone else."

Daryl reached up his free head and gently pressed his thumb to the center of her chin before letting his arm fall to his side. "I trust 'im. You should, too."

Olive nodded, her gaze meeting his. She knew he was right, of course. She hadn't known Rick for that long, and she knew that he was close to Daryl, a fact she accepted with ease. "If you trust him, then so do I."

Daryl smiled faintly and briefly before leaning down a bit, hesitating to touch her as though he was breaking some kind of rule. Eighty-percent of the way there, he loved how lovely she looked close-up. She responded by going the other twenty-percent, kissing him gently.

Like their other kisses prior, this one was sweet and just for them. They were still trying to get used to all of this "being together" stuff as neither was particularly accustomed to being in a romantic kind of situation. In the world they lived in, love didn't really bear much weight, but it carried on nonetheless, almost as if it didn't feel the sting of this new life.

Daryl loved the feel of her lips against his, wanting so much more, but he refrained, pulling back from the kiss and gesturing towards the building. "Let's go find Glenn," he said. "He mentioned something about needing help setting some traps out in the fence-line."

Olive nodded, giving him a gentle glance as they headed back inside together.

**::::**

The clanging sounds of pots and pans could be heard from the inside of the prison as Carl, Maggie, and Beth drew them all in towards the fences, all yelling and distracting the Walkers both inside and outside of the fences. Olive stabbed through the softened skull matter of a nearby Walker having been missing the feeling of wiping out the ever-present danger.

"Olive! C'mon!" Daryl called to her. She turned and hopped into the back of the truck with Michonne following suit just before they drove back up towards the courtyard. Glenn had done his task, so the clanging of the pots ceased.

Exiting the truck in the various ways they had to, Glenn turned to Rick.

"Tried to drive up to the gate again," he explained to his father-figure. "Maybe some blown tires'll stop 'em."

"That's a good idea," Rick complimented.

"It was Michonne's," Daryl said cautiously, a hint of emphasis on her name - Olive picked up on that and, judging by Rick's expression, so did he.

"We don't have to win," Michonne chimed in. "We just have to make their getting out more trouble than it's worth."

Nudging her elbow into Daryl's side, Olive nodded her head in Glenn's direction, seeing him picking up a few things to aid in readying the prison for some kind of attack.

"You still need to talk to Merle?" she asked in a low volume.

Daryl nodded. "Yeah," he answered. "Maybe Glenn's seen 'im recently. Couldn't hurt to ask." Heading over to him, Olive was by his side, almost in a 'hero support' kind of way. "Hey." Glenn briefly looked at him before returning to his work. "You seen Merle around? He say he was sorry yet?" Glenn remained quiet. "'cause he is. He's gon' make it right. I'm gon' make him. There's gotta be a way." Olive placed a hand on Daryl's arm as if to tell him he was rambling, as if to mention that he was treading water at this point. "Just needs to be a little forgiveness, is all."

Glenn approached him, teeth gritted and eyes shaded. "He tied me to a chair," he began, sounding distressed, "beat me, and threw a Walker into the room. Maybe I could call it even, but he took Maggie to a man who terrorized her, _humiliated_ her. I care more about her than I do about me." With that, Glenn got back to his work and Olive tugged Daryl in the direction of the prison.

It was a moot point with Glenn, Daryl realized. Sure, his brother was the biggest asshole he'd ever come across - even _after_ the apocalypse had begun - but without forgiveness, what did they actually have? Hell, he'd have never even entertained the idea of a romantic entanglement with Olive had he not possessed some kind of faith, if he hadn't believed in karma.

They searched all the usual places one could find Merle without so much as a trace of him. Carol mentioned that he had gone off in search of something, that he'd not mentioned where he was headed. Daryl, fortunately, had some kind of idea. He led Olive down to one of the kitchens, one just off the cafeteria where they'd hacked off Hershel's leg.

"Merle?" he called out. "You down here? Merle?"

"Hey, little brother," Merle answered after sifting through another drawer. He turned to face his brother, the smile on his face quickly fading at the sight of Olive trailing behind him. "The fuck is _she_ doin' here?"

"Leave her outta this, bro," Daryl defended, placing his arm in front of Olive.

"Don't mind me," Olive said. "I ain't the one who has a bone to pick with you."

Merle turned his sights back to his brother, all ears now.

"The hell are you doin'?" Daryl asked.

"Lookin' for a little crystal meth." Daryl frowned a bit and Olive shook her head in disgust. "I know, I know. I shouldn't mess up my life when everything's goin' so sweet, right?"

Daryl chose not to acknowledge that statement. It was better to ignore him than to encourage him. Instead, he changed the subject. "You talk to Rick yet?"

"Yeah, yeah." Merle nodded a bit and shrugged. "I'm in, but he ain't got the stomach for this. He's gon' buckle. You know that, right?"

Olive pushed her foot towards Daryl's boot, nudging him as if to tell him she was right behind him, rooting for him and that she would defend him if she had to.

"Yeah," Daryl said with a shrug. " If he does, he does." Rick was his best friend. No way in hell would he let that go to waste.

"You want him to?"

Daryl shrugged once more. "Whatever he says goes."

"Man." Merle eyed his brother sharply, judging his every breath, every move, every word. "Do you even possess a pair of balls, little brother?" Daryl averted his brother's eyes, feeling heat rise up in his cheeks from embarrassment - did he have to fuckin' do that right now? In front of Olive, no less? "Are they even attached? I mean, if they are, they belong to you? You used to call people like that 'sheep.' What _happened_ to you?"

Finally, his gaze returned to Merle's. Olive could sense the tension building in the room, so her grip tightened around the handle of her pitchfork just in case things got out of hand. For Daryl's sake, she hoped not. "What happened to you and Glenn and Maggie?"

Merle smirked a dark kind of expression that made Olive's stomach churn. "I've done worse. You need to grow up. Things is _different_ now. Your people look at me like I'm the devil, grabbin' up those lovebirds like that, huh? Now, y'all wanna do the same damn thing I did. Snatch someone up and doin' 'em to the Governor, just like me." He paused, eyes narrowing as he grew more defensive of his own stance. "People do what they gotta do or they die."

Daryl shook his head. "Can't do things without people anymore, man," he corrected, speaking entirely from experience. He knew, on his end, that he couldn't help but rely on everyone around him.

Merle shook his head, disappointment spread across his features. "Maybe these people need someone like you around, huh? Do their dirty work - the bad guy. Maybe that's how it is then, huh? How does that hit ya?"

Daryl's eyes cast downward towards the floor as he chewed on his lip. Turning his gaze back up, he said "I just want my brother back."

Merle turned his back, shaking his head. "Get outta here, man."

Daryl started to say something else, but Olive gave his arm a squeeze in her own silent way to say that he should leave - Merle wasn't about to listen to anything his brother had to say anymore. The pair left the room together, Olive letting her hand slide down Daryl's sleeve towards his hand where her fingers gripped through his.

"He shouldn't have said all of that to you," she encouraged gently. "None of that was called for."

Daryl nodded, looking over at her. "It's fine."

"No, Daryl, it's not." She stopped moving, her hand not leaving his as he was forced to turn and look at her. "He's your brother and I know he ain't been around for awhile, and I ain't been here that long - "

"You matter, Olive," he jumped in, feeling like he needed to say that.

Olive smiled at his interruption, her heart fluttering at the sound of sincerity in his voice. "Thank you." Finding herself once again, she continued. "I just mean that you're worth so much more than him. He doesn't deserve you. No one does."

Daryl's eyes studied hers and he slung his crossbow strap over his shoulder to free up his hands. He took her face into his hands and pulled her close to himself, pressing his lips firmly, sweetly to hers. He couldn't deny how she made him feel like a billion bucks, like all of this didn't matter - the apocalypse, the world, the rest of everything was at a stand-still. Olive was all he needed.

Olive responded well to his kiss, a bit surprised at his openness in affection. She pressed into him, leaning up into the kiss as she hooked her arms around his waist. He was so firm but was also soft. He was all hers for the taking, and she couldn't help but feel selfish. She genuinely just wanted him to be happy - if that was with her, so be it.

**::::**

"Daryl," Rick said as they entered the courtyard a few hours later, "I can't find Merle or Michonne. They're gone."

Daryl was initially stunned, but stopped thinking as soon as he remembered where they had last seen Merle.

"Come on," he said, leading Olive and Rick back to the lower kitchen, knowing that there was some kind of arsenal just off of that. "He was in here last we saw of 'im. Said he was lookin' for drugs. Said a lot of things, actually."

Rick was all ears now. "Like what?"

"Like you should change your mind, for starters," Olive chimed in, smiling at him as if to say that was expected.

Daryl headed into the arsenal, noticing the few weapons missing. "Yeah, he took her here. They mixed it up."

"Dammit," Rick said with a sigh as he started to leave. "I'm goin' after 'im."

"You can't track for shit," Daryl commented abruptly.

"Then all three of us."

"No, just me an' Olive." When Rick made a face, he continued. "I said I'd go, and I'll go. Plus, they're gonna come back here. You need to be ready." He paused, giving his friend a nod. "_You're_ family, too."

With that, Daryl and Olive left through the emergency exit door and headed out to search for Merle. Neither really knew where to begin, but at least they had a decent concept of where they were generally headed. It was ridiculous that they even needed to deal with this on their own - why should they have to deal with all of this? Merle had been out of Daryl's life-picture for so long that this shouldn't matter. Still, she thought, he _was_ Daryl's brother, and she knew how she would feel if it were here brother on the line.

She followed him into the woods, covering his six as she took out a couple of Walkers. Olive was picking up on his tracking skills, learning as she watched him that his acquired skill must have taken so long to perfect. She envied that, but she could never envy the fact that he'd only learned such a skill because he spent the vast majority of his formative years alone.

She stayed close to him, keeping by his side and pressing her lips tightly together to keep silent. "Why did you bring me with ya?" she asked, hoping for an honest answer.

Daryl looked back at her, his expression gentle. "I need ya," he answered, and she knew he wasn't lying. They continued on, coming to a clearing a couple of miles from the prison, seeing Michonne heading their way.

"Hey!" Daryl called out to her. "Where's my brother? Where is he?" He paused, fearing the worst, as he made it to her. "You kill 'im?"

Michonne remained stoic and placid, shaking her head gently. "He let me go."

Daryl and Olive took off in the direction they had seen the practically-a-samurai woman come from, the trail heating up as they followed all of Merle's signs. He was leaving something behind, a note of some kind. It was almost as if he had meant to tell the world what was happening, as though he was purposefully leaving a trail that those left - if they still even cared - could use as a guide to his exact location.

Olive didn't personally care if they found Merle or not, but because Daryl cared, she knew she had to as well, at least until they knew for sure, dead or alive, what had become of Merle Dixon.

They had their answer soon enough as they made it to what once was a facility of some kind. Metal warehouses littered with shattered windows and siding pierced with bulletholes seemed all too familiar to them. It was near where they had accompanied Rick to meet with the Governor. The grass around these abandoned buildings was littered with corpses both of the dead and of the recently re-deceased. Olive continued forward while Daryl turned over some of the bodies with his boot. Nearby, several famished Walkers were feeding on the once-living, so Olive tiptoed past them and moved on, eyes scanning the bodies she saw.

And that's when, of course, the unthinkable happened.

Just up ahead, she could see a familiar outline, one she never wanted to see ever again but was forced to by time and terrible timing.

"Daryl..." she managed out in a squeak, the hand once-gripping her pitchfork loosening up as she waited for him to be at her side as she'd been magnetized to his only moments prior. She could feel him nearing, her eyes not leaving the sight ahead.

"What...?" he whispered as he met her. She nodded her head in the direction ahead, her chin quivering.

"Daryl, I..." she paused as he looked to where she was staring and saw what she'd been gawking at: Merle - or, rather, Walker-Merle - was eating the flesh off the face of a recently-deceased young man. "...I'm so sorry..." She couldn't manage anything else, knowing that she couldn't be the one to put Merle out of his misery and as Daryl started to sob, her heart shattered for him. She was now looking at this situation from the outside in, as she had gone through a similar situation not all that long ago, it seemed. She pitied him, but as Merle's dead, white eyes met Daryl's devastated gaze, she knew it could _only_ be Daryl to put him out.

Merle stood up, mouth red with the flesh of the young man hanging out of his mouth and the blood oozing down his chin. It was the most horrendous sight that Olive had experienced since her father had been...

Her thoughts halted when he came stumbling towards Daryl, obviously recognizing him, if only slightly. Daryl hesitated, pushing him back as though he didn't want to kill him, but he had to - he knew that. Taking his knife from its sheath, Daryl stabbed his brother upwards when he lunged again, striking him just below his chin and up into his head. They fell to the grass and Daryl grunted, letting out sounds of frustration as he repeatedly drew back and stabbed Merle in the head. He was finally having his moment.

Carol had found her moment with Ed. T-Dog had experienced his at the farm, Glenn's was in the pharmacy, Rick's had been when Lori passed, and so on. Everyone had had a moment wherein their pent-up hatred, their frustration, their perfect obsoletion came to a striking climax and finally hit them. They became violent, vicious, and vengeful, bent on making themselves come to terms with what was happening to them. Falling back onto his back, Daryl shook with sobs, his self-control meter dropping to negative sights.

Olive dropped to her knees at the sight, shedding her own set of tears - not for Merle, but because of what she knew his death would do to Daryl. She came to him, wrapping her arms around him and leaning her mouth against his hair. She half-expected him to remain compacent, to push her away or to not respond to her comfort at all, but he proved quite the contrary. Daryl pressed his forehead to her chest and wept, his hands gripping the sides of her shirt as he gave into her, shaking with sobs as all the shit they had to deal with finally became real.


End file.
